


love. be afraid.

by kaseynicole21



Series: Teen Wolf (Omegaverse) [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Jackson, Alpha John, Alpha Kate, Alpha Lydia, Alpha Melissa, Alpha Scott, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alphas Betas and Omegas Have Equal Rights, Beta Allison, Beta Boyd, Beta Chris, Beta Victoria, Equal Rights, Equality, F/M, M/M, Multi, Omega Erica, Omega Isaac, Omega Stiles, Season/Series 01, Semi-Dark Stiles, Semi-Nice Jackson, Series Rewrite, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slightly Sociopathic Stiles, semi-slow build, severely abuses run-on sentences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7726663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaseynicole21/pseuds/kaseynicole21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Rewite of my previous story of the same title, though with capitalization)</p>
<p>In which, season one takes place within the omegverse, omegas have equal rights, Stiles is not sweet and kind like other omegas and may or may not set you on fire, Scott is bitten by a freaky wolf thing, Derek Hale suddenly rolls into town, and Stiles is so done with Beacon Hills' bullshit, but helps out his two idiots anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alphas Betas and Omegas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Information of the biology, sexuality, and traits of the genders in this particular omegaverse. I figured it would be better to go ahead and get that out of the way so people can get the gist of it and then dive into the story. And if you reach a part that makes you curious, you can just click away to the first chapter and the information's right there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up you guys? I have been gone forever, and I am sorry about that. I finally started college, even though I am very late in doing so, and one of my classes is a creative writing class. After taking this class, and comparing my writing style now to my writing style from before, I really, really wanted to rewrite this fic in my new style. I also have some ideas and changes I want to make to the plot itself, mostly Stiles' character, because of some things I learned in my psychology class. I hope you enjoy the rewrite and I hope it makes a little more sense than my previous work.
> 
> I also made some changes to the Omegaverse itself, so the first chapter, like before, will be an information dump.

Unlike in most verses, alpha, beta, and omega are the primary genders/sexes, while boy or girl are the secondary genders and male and female the secondary sexes. Please remember that gender is mental, while sex is physical, and alpha, beta, and omega can constitute as both due to the fictional physicalities in this verse. Also, one does not "present" at a later age (whatever that means). They are simply born alpha, beta, or omega. 

 **Alphas:** A Male alpha's reproductive system is identical to a real-world human male's. However, unlike beta males, alpha males possess a locking bulbus glandis or “knot,” a spherical area of erectile tissue at the base of the penis. During intercourse, the tissues swell up and lock sometime after penetration of the male’s penis inside the partner, generally about a minute or so before orgasm, though it has been known to happen during or after orgasm, or even immediately after penetration. This is known as “knotting”; this may last up to half an hour or more. The only other mammal known to share this trait with humans is the canine species. Alpha males only have the ability to fertilize. Alpha males are born without foreskin. Unlike beta females or male and female omegas, alpha females only possess one ovary on the left side; in place of their right ovary is a testicle (can’t think of what else to call it). This is where their sperm is kept; the sperm is ejaculated through their Skene’s gland. Because of this, alpha females only ovulate every two months, as opposed to the standard monthly cycle. Inside their “inner testicle” is the external spermatic, epididymis, and vas deferens. They also possess a prostate (the prostate actually plays a very large part in producing sperm; it also produces calcium, the reason for sperm's milky appearance), seminal vesicles, and bulbourethral glands. However, their “male anatomy” (not counting their prostate) is located in different areas than alpha or beta males (obviously). They also possess a vagina, cervix, a fallopian tube, and a uterus, just like any other female. During intercourse, circular muscles just inside the female alpha’s vagina will tighten around the penis significantly, locking the partners together; this is the alpha female’s version of a knot. This is known as “locking” or “tying.” Because of their unique anatomy, alpha females are able to both bear eggs and fertilize eggs. (No, they cannot fertilize their own eggs.) Because alpha females do not possess a penis, they must manually insert their sperm inside their partner if they are trying for a child; because of this, alpha female’s sperm is much more potent than a male’s, giving them a better chance at survival. Alpha females are born with a macroclitoris, as well as no clitoral hood; this is how they are told a part from beta or omega females at birth.

 **Betas:** Both beta males and females' reproductive system is identical to that of a real-world human male and female. beta males can only fertilize, while beta females can only bear. Beta females are born without a clitoral hood, but with a regular clitoris. Beta males are born without foreskin, but with no knot. This allows them to be told a part from their alpha and omega counterparts at birth.

 **Omegas:** Omegas, both male and female, possess a female reproductive system. Female omegas possess a normal female physicality, a vagina, clitoris, ovaries, breasts with working mammary glands, etc. Male omegas, like female alphas, possess a rather unique system. Male omegas do not have breasts or a vagina; like other males, they possess a penis (though it tends to be much smaller than their alpha counterparts), a ball sac (also much smaller than an alpha's), and an anus. Their anal canal is where this differs; unlike alpha males, a male omega's anal canal branches off into two different directions, one leading to the intestines and the other leading to the cervix. Because of this, the blood from a male omega's period leaks from their anus. A male omega's anus is naturally elastic in the same way a female's vagina is, allowing for safe intercourse and labors. Male omegas are also capable of breastfeeding despite their lack of breasts; unlike females, whom are capable of retaining and storing their milk, male omegas produce milk during stimulation (as in, they never grow breasts even during or after pregnancy); milk is produced when the nipples are stimulated, but it is not stored, so no breasts. Unlike alpha males, male omegas do not produce sperm; a male omega's penis is the equivalent of a female's clit, and their ball sac the equivalent of a labia; however, their ball sac does produce their natural lubrication - which causes their ejaculation to be clear rather than milky, and their natural lubrication also cleans out their anal canal (in the case of intercourse _(a female omegas natural lubrication also keeps their vaginal canal clean in the case of intercourse)_ or bowel movements) and keeps it clean - and also produces a few hormones, such as their their pregnancy hormones, and a unique mixture of estrogen and testosterone. A male omega's anus possesses many sensitive nerves and is sensitive to pleasurable stimulation in the same way an omega female's vagina is; when aroused, it will swell with blood in the same manner as a vagina, as well. While male omegas do possess prostates, it is different from an alpha's as the prostate normally plays a large role in producing sperm; for male omegas, the prostate helps produce their natural lubricant, as well as estrogen and other hormones unique to male omegas, similar to their ball sac; it is also quite sensitive to sexual stimulation, similar to an alpha's prostate. Male omegas are incapable of impregnating others. Male omegas, like their female counterparts, are incapable of growing facial hair. Male omegas, unlike male alphas, are born with foreskin; this is how male alphas and omegas are told apart at birth. During arousal, the foreskin naturally retracts to beneath the head - similar to how the clitoral hood of a female's clitoris retracts during arousal.

 **Scents:** A human's sense of smell is identical to that of a real-world human's. The only thing abnormal about the sense of smell of humans in this Omegaverse is the ability to pick up on pheromones from other humans. An omega’s scent is soft, sweet, and usually smells like different fruits all lumped together, such as a soft mixed berry smell, or a soft, strawberry-watermelon smell. An alpha’s scent is usually smooth and dark; normally, they come off smelling earthy, but other scents have been named, such as dark chocolate or caramel. A beta’s scent is usually mellow, but not bland; they normally retain a soft, minty or spicy scent, such as cinnamon or cumin.

**Relationships:** Unlike in other Omegaverses, humans in my particular 'verse do not mate. They behave like real-world humans; they date, marry, have casual sex, etc., etc. The mating is left to the supernatural creatures.

**Wolf Hierarchy and Human Genders:** Werewolf ranks are capitalized - Alpha, Beta, Omega. Human genders are lower case - alpha, beta, omega. Because a werewolf's human side could be a different gender than their wolf rank, their gender and rank can be hyphenated - omega-Beta, alpha-Beta, beta-Omega, etc. If they are the same gender as their rank, then they are simply referred to as a double Alpha, double Omega, etc.; they may also be simply referred to by their gender/rank.

**Heterosexual versus Homosexual:** Pretty much any relationship where children cannot be produced is considered a homosexual relationship. Pretty similar to how things in the real world work. So, for example, a male alpha with a male beta would be considered a gay relationship, while a male alpha with a male omega would be considered a straight one; a male alpha with a female alpha would be a straight relationship, while a male omega with a female omega would be the equivalent to a lesbian relationship, just as a female alpha with a female alpha would be a gay one. 


	2. Wolf Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles knows there's something off about him, and maybe that's why he's so quick to believe Scott is a werewolf when his friend starts behaving abnormally after an animal attack. And what is up with Derek Hale and his annoying brooding?

Stiles knows there's something wrong with him, something off, and after extensive research, he thinks it might be some type of sociopathy, but he's still not too sure. After all, why would some teenage omega take such an interest, an unhealthy interest, in his father's murder cases? Why would some teenage omega be so excited to see some dead body out in the middle of the woods? There's always been something off about him, though, because he notices things, too many things, like how Lydia Martin is a secret genius or how Jackson Whittemore is actually smart enough to keep up with her, and that they actually have a soft spot for their friends, or how Isaac Lahey is always showing up to school with bruises all over, or how Erica Reyes has seizures at least once a week, or how Vernon Boyd is always, always alone, and despite all the things he notices, he can't truly bring himself to care. And he wonders why he doesn't feel empathy the way other people do, feel bad that Erica is constantly in and out of the hospital or that Isaac is probably being beaten right now or that Vernon has no one to share his life with, but he doesn't. Doesn't care, doesn't understand why he should, because, right now, he's listening in on his father's police call and getting excited because there's a dead body out in the woods.

"I'm sorry," His father's voice sounds some strange combination of shocked and sarcastic, and Stiles wonders why people wonder where he got his attitude from, "Could you repeat that?"

"Well," The voice is nervous, like it can't believe what it's saying, either, but it has to say it anyway, "The kids said that the body was... cut in half."

Stiles grins. 

* * *

Stiles stares at Scott's bandaged side with more fascination than he should, but it's okay, because Scott knows him and he knows the facade Stiles puts in place, and the alpha allows him to complete his inspection. It's when Stiles reaches out to touch it that Scott decides that it's enough and pulls back.

"Hey, whoa," The alpha's voice is gentle, and Stiles rolls his eyes but doesn't comment. Because this is Scott and Scott's alpha mother raised him to be a gentlemen, and ever since Stiles' first heat, Scott has been incredibly accommodating and gentle, and Stiles prefers it over the assholes that seem to retain the mindset that all omegas are nothing but baby makers. 

"It was too dark to see, but I'm pretty sure it was a wolf," Scott states, and Stiles pauses, brow raised.

"A wolf?" He voice is incredulous, and Scott, for all that he is slow on the uptake of most things, takes notice because this is Stiles and Stiles is his best friend, and he's supposed to notice these things.

"Yeah, well," Scott stammers over his words, trying to think of the best way to explain to his logical friend the very illogical thing that he saw, "It was, it was kind of like a wolf. I mean, it was _huge_ , you have no idea, and it had weird red eyes. It almost looked like they were glowing."

"Glowing red eyes, huh?"

"Hm... I heard a wolf howl, too."

"No, you didn't."

"I did."

"Did not."

"Stiles-"

"Scott, there are no wolves in California, okay?" Stiles' voice is finally taking on that fed up tone it gets whenever he speaks with people who don't retain the same random trivia he does, and Scott's face takes on that puppy pout it usually gets when he's confused by something, "There haven't been any wolves in this state for, like, sixty years."

"Really?"

"Yes, really, there are no wolves in California," Stiles scoffs, brushing a hand over his buzz cut and wishing he wasn't so impulsive because he really misses his longer hair. Scott grins at him, though, letting the conversation go in favor of another.

"Well," Scott's voice is teasing, and Stiles really wishes his best friend didn't know how impatient Stiles is and drag things out as much as he does, "If you don't believe me about the wolves, then you definitely won't believe me when I say I found the body."

Stiles grins, excitement entering his voice and he, again, wonders why he is so excited at the prospect of seeing a dead body, "You found the body? Really? Are you kidding?"

"I wish, I'm gonna have nightmares for months," Scott's voice is filled with dread, and Stiles doesn't understand why because this is exciting; there's finally something interesting in this tiny city where the only interesting thing is the gay bar down town.

"This is seriously the most exciting thing to happen in this town since-" Stiles catches sight of her quickly, like he always does, and he quickly changes the direction his speech was going in favor of her, "Since the birth of Lydia Martin! Hey, Lydia, you look-... like you're gonna ignore me..."

Stiles lets his voice trail off, lips pursing in annoyance as the alpha girl quickly brushes by him without sparing him a single glance. He sometimes wonders what Lydia thinks of him because he knows she's a secret genius and that she notices things like he does, and he knows that she probably knows that he doesn't like her like everyone thinks he does. Not really. He thinks she's beautiful and he knows she's a genius and he knows she puts up a clever facade, just like he does, and he admires her a lot. And he knows the difference between admiration and like, and he knows that he doesn't like her. Not at all. Just believes that, if she stopped thinking about what others thought of her, that she'd probably be the best friend in the entire world and that they could probably compete for Fields Metals and Nobel Prizes together.

She hasn't stopped caring about what other people think of her yet, though, so he let's her go. He's patient when it comes to the people he cares about, and he can wait for her to build up some confidence before trying again. Like always.

So, he turns his attention back to Scott and teases him, because he's Stiles, and Stiles is the Sheriff's clumsy son who brushes everything off and doesn't care about what people think of him, and that's what he's supposed to do.

* * *

Stiles sits on the bench during lacrosse to watch Scott play because he's Scott's friend and that's what he's supposed to do. He knows that Coach Finstock doesn't mind that he's sitting on the bench for players even though he's not supposed to because there's no omega lacrosse team. Because he knows that Coach likes him because he also coaches cross country and Stiles is his fastest runner, but he also knows that Coach would rather chew his own hand off than admit it, so Stiles doesn't worry about it. Instead, he hides a smirk as he listens to Coach Finstock put Scott on goal because he believes that Scott's bad lacrosse skills will boost the other players' morale. Stiles likes Coach Finstock. He really does. The man is insane but awesome, and Stiles knows that Coach messes up his name on purpose as a sign of affection. Because Stiles notices things that others don't.

And he notices when something is off with his friends, and he furrows his brows and narrows his eyes when Scott suddenly spazzes out at the sound of the whistle, and he flinches back when the lacrosse ball makes direct contact with his head. And he wonders about Scott behaving oddly ever since he showed Stiles the bite. And Stiles wonders about strange animals with poisonous, venomous, and infectious bites that causes teenagers to go crazy.

But, then Scott is suddenly on his feet, twisting and turning his body almost gracefully, but not quite, and he catches every ball and defends the goal better than any lacrosse player Stiles has ever seen and he doesn't seem like he'll be needing his inhaler anytime soon. And Stiles wonders, again, about strange animals and about wolves even though there are no wolves in California.

And then Jackson steps in, and Stiles can't help but cheer when Scott knocks him off his high horse.

He observes Scott and his strange behavior for the rest of the day, and, when the final bell rings, he doesn't go home. Instead, he drives Scott out to the Preserve, and he wants to ask Scott about his sudden lacrosse superpowers, but catches himself because Scott is already nervously explaining all the weird things that have been happening to him since he was bitten by some weird, possibly wolf-like animal in the woods.

The two make their way through the Preserve and Stiles doesn't bother to hide how easily he twists around the trees and hops over streams because this is Scott, and Scott knows how often Stiles likes to sneak out and explore even if he's seen everything here more than five times and he knows that Stiles is not as clumsy as he lets on.

"It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball," Scott says, his voice an in-between of happy that he was finally able to perform lacrosse the way he's always wanted and distressed that something strange may be happening to him, "But, that's not the only thing weird that's been happening to me. I mean, I keep, I keep hearing things. Like, like Allison and Lydia. I heard their whole conversation from where I was on the field, and that shouldn't be possible, right? And I keep smelling things, too."

"Like what?"

"Like... your Mint Mojito gum in your left pocket."

"I don't have any Mint Mojito..." Stiles' voice trails off and he stares at the gum in his hand. He vaguely wonders how long it's been in his pocket and cringes before putting it back in, not wanting to litter in the Preserve, "And all this started with the bite?"

It sounds strange, weird, not possible, but it's happening and Scott being able to point out the gum and which specific pocket it was in is proof enough for Stiles, who didn't even know he had the gum himself. The lacrosse superpowers were proof, as well, plenty of proof, but Stiles doesn't want to bring his friend's joy at his performance crashing down, so he doesn't mentions it.

"It's weird," Scott says, "I mean, what if my body's flooding with adrenaline before going into shock or something?"

"I've never heard of that," Stiles mutters before he gets an idea, a stupid, dumb idea, but an idea, "What if it's lycanthropy?"

"What is that, is that bad?" And Scott looks genuinely distressed, but Stiles is not a nice guy, definitely not, so he doesn't drop the act.

"Oh, yeah, the worst," Stiles grins, "But only once a month."

Scott narrows his eyes in confusion and Stiles howls mockingly. Scott throws him an irritated look, his little puppy brain finally getting it, and he lightly shoves Stiles. 

Stiles only chuckles, "Hey, _you're_ the one who heard a wolf howling."

Stiles pauses, though, looking at Scott thoughtfully. He's never been one to toss aside what others would consider impossibilities. Anything is possible, that's what his mother used to tell him. Anything is possible, so maybe werewolves are possible, too, and that would explain Scott's sudden superpowers and the howling wolf he heard and the red-eyed beast he described to Stiles when Stiles asked him what exactly bit him. Because those things should be impossible; there are no wolves in California and no animal has glowing red eyes and mountain lions don't hang around in forests and they're most certainly not aggressive enough to tear some poor girl completely in half.

And then Scott's crouching down, sifting through the leaves, and grumbling about how this is definitely the place, and Stiles believes it only adds onto his theories. What animal is smart enough to move the body and not leave behind a trace? Because, there should be a trace; blood stains in the dirt, at least, but there's nothing.

Stiles can't think through everything out here in the woods, though, nothing here to research or cross-reference with, so he stops thinking about it for a moment. Especially when he catches sight of some strange alpha glaring at them from across the woods, and Stiles quickly catches Scott's attention.

His friend spins around, looking nervous, but then the man stalks his way toward them quite aggressively and that nervousness is replaced with disdain because Scott may be a nice guy, but he's still an alpha, and Stiles wants to tell the stranger to shove off, that he's not as intimidating as he seems to think he is, but then the man starts speaking, voice a little husky.

"What're you doing here?" Even his voice is confrontational and Stiles has never been one to take that standing, mostly because he's never been quite sure how to keep his mouth from running without his permission, "This is private property."

"Uh, actually, no," Stiles mutters, holding the man's gaze when his eyes dart over to Stiles even though that's not what omegas are supposed to do, and Stiles can't help but feel irritation at the dismissal in them, "This is city property seeing as no one has claimed it for, like, six years, so... we can be here if we want, dude."

Stiles takes note of the flash of pain in the man's eyes, so he relents. Just a little.

"We were just looking for something, is all," Stiles says, and he taps Scott a little more aggressively than he usually does because Scott's not dumb, but he's slow to catch onto things, and Stiles also knows that this strange man that suddenly appeared has intimidated his friend even though Scott tries to hide it because he's an alpha and alphas don't handle confrontation with other alphas very well.

"Oh, uh," Scott stammers before catching himself and steadying his voice; he speaks confidently, and a little aggressively, because this is another alpha, a strange alpha, standing too close for comfort to his omega friend, "My inhaler. Have you seen it?"

The man watches them for a moment, and Stiles calculates the thoughtful look the man takes on as he looks Scott over. Suddenly, his hand is out of his pocket and he's tossing something at Scott lightning fast, and the man is spinning around and storming off as if nothing ever happened. Scott catches the inhaler with a surprising ease, and Stiles suddenly remembers who the man is as he thinks over the man's reasons for believing the Preserve was private property, thinking back to his father coming home one night, worn and haggard, and going straight for the liquor cabinet and lamenting about the death of the nice family out in the woods.

"Derek Hale..." He murmurs, and Scott glances at him questioningly.

"He's, uh... do you remember, Scott? I mean, it was a huge deal. His family, they died in a fire, like, six years ago. The Hale Fire, it was all over the news."

"Huh..." Scott murmurs, "I wonder what he's doing back."

"Yeah, I wonder..." Stiles mutters, because this is not a coincidence. Some girl dies in the woods at the hands of some unknown animal, Scott gets bitten by it and suddenly turns into Superman, and now Derek Hale is stalking around the Preserve like he still owns the place, all in the span of a day, and Stiles doesn't believe in coincidences.

* * *

Stiles' research takes him all across the Internet, and his room is now filled with countless books as he tries his best to discern fact from fiction. But, he's new to this, never thought it possible before, so he's unsure of what would be considered fiction and what would not. He finds stories that match Scott's, about being bitten by strange animals and now, suddenly, everything comes so easily and instinct seems to take control. He finds strange definitions of wolfsbane and lycanthropy, and he sees glimpses of words like Alpha, Beta, and Omega, but they're not clearly defined so Stiles can't be sure of what they mean aside from the obvious, but he wonders if they mean something different than human genders because it seems like they do. He learns why wolves howl and he learns how instinctive it is for wolves to find packs, and he wonders about Scott and the wolf-like animal that bit him and howled for him when Scott ran.

He wonders how he'd even get Scott to believe him with his only evidence being these books and files and whatever Scott saw that night. Because Scott is stubborn and denial is one of his strong suits, and not even Stiles would believe someone so readily without strong proof. But, then his dad comes home and the alpha seems confused and concerned, and Stiles asks him what's wrong.

John shakes his head, the alpha's voice uncomfortable and worried, "The, uh, the girl we found in the woods... we've had the test results come back in. There were _wolf_ hairs on her. _Wolves._ Here in California..."

So, Stiles texts Scott because now he has actual evidence something strange is going on and, maybe, werewolves aren't so far off the mark, after all. But, when Scott actually gets here, his attention is hanging on Allison too much because there's a party he has to get to because Allison invited him, and _come on, Stiles, there's actually a pretty girl who wants to spend time with me for once._

They fight, of course, because this is Scott and Stiles doesn't have to keep up his cheerful facade in front of Scott because Scott is his best friend.

"Scott," Stiles snaps, his voice low and dark in a way he only ever allows it to be in front of Scott, "They found evidence, okay? There were wolf hairs on that girl. Explain that. No wolves in California for sixty years, then all of sudden there's a dead girl with wolf hair on her and you get bit by whatever attacked her, and now you suddenly have superpowers. Like on the field, Scott, explain that."

"I just made a good shot," Scott immediately denies, and Stiles wants to grab him and shake him, and _quit thinking with your knot!!_ Because Allison is a nice girl and she'll probably wait for Scott if Scott just tells her his asthma is acting up. And Scott needs to because there's a full moon tonight, and Stiles doesn't want his friend to go crazy and hurt people, because he knows Scott and he knows Scott will never forgive himself for that.

"You made an incredible shot," Stiles shoots back, voice frustrated, "An improbable shot. The kind of shot that would normally make you suck on your inhaler for the next few hours. What about that, Scott? When's the last time you needed your inhaler?"

Scott just sighs and Stiles can feel an overbearing alpha presence building in the room, and Stiles takes that as more proof because Scott has never once used his pheromones on Stiles, not once, "I don't have time for this, Stiles. I got to get to that party; we'll talk tomorrow."

"The full moon's tonight, Scott," Stiles can't hold back the foreboding in his voice, and Scott pauses when he catches it, "It'll make you change and your bloodlust will go crazy."

"Bloodlust?"

"Yes, your urge to kill. Do you want to be responsible for hurting people because you didn't believe me, Scott?"

"You know what, Stiles, I'm already feeling the urge to kill someone."

Stiles glares at him before shoving past him and snatching his phone, ignoring Scott as the alpha attempts to snatch it back.

"What're you doing?!" Scott shouts, and there's an inhuman growl in his voice now, but Stiles doesn't pause as he tells his friend that he's canceling his date. But, then Scott's growl is a roar and Stiles gasps when he feels all the air leave his lungs when he's suddenly shoved against the wall, hands at his throat, and Stiles stares at Scott in shock because his friend has never tried to hurt him before. And then Scott looks like he's just woken up, and Stiles can see the horror frittering through his friend's eyes as the adrenaline wears off.

Stiles merely glares back at him and Scott flinches back, quickly scrambling away from Stiles.

"Look, I got, I got to go get ready for that party..." Scott stammers and there's a trimmer in his voice, but Stiles ignores it because his friend is ignoring him and he continues to glare, "I... I'm sorry... I'll see you later, Stiles..."

Scott snatches his bag and his phone and he rushes out the door, leaving Stiles alone with his thoughts. And Stiles' thoughts are going haywire as he stares at his overturned chair, three neat slash marks clawed through them frighteningly deep.

Stiles stops thinking as he grabs his own things, ready to crash Lydia Martin's party even if it will make her hate him.

* * *

Stiles shoves his way through party goers and ignores their idiotic whining as he searches high and low for Scott while thinking about how Lydia needed to get better security because the jocks at the front were far too easy to trick into letting him in. He can't find Scott and he's almost ready to give up because his frustration is reaching its peak at the amount of people that have slammed into him. He grunts in annoyance when yet another person bumps into him more harshly than necessary, and he quickly rushes through the first set of doors he sees. He finds himself on a small patio, thankfully empty, and he sighs in relief.

But, then he feels somebody watching him, and he spins around only for a hand to shove its way over his mouth and he once again finds himself being slammed against a wall. He shouts in surprise, voice muffled, before pausing when he realizes who is holding him down.

Stiles glares, and Derek glares right back.

"If I move my hand, will you scream?" Derek's voice is low and husky and a little aggressive, but Stiles remains unintimidated and continues to glare until Derek sighs through his noise in frustration and removes his hand despite Stiles' lack of answer.

"Seriously?" Stiles snips, voice annoyed, and Derek glares again, but Stiles simply continues, "Why are you here?"

"You know why I'm here," Derek murmurs, his voice a little calmer than before, and he shoots Stiles a pointed look.

"You're a werewolf," Stiles says it so casually that Derek's eyebrows raise, but Stiles once again ignores him and continues on, "And, you're making sure the newest wolf in town doesn't go moon crazy, right?"

Derek doesn't answer him, simply stares, and Stiles rolls his eyes, "Look, Scott won't hurt anyone. You got to give him the benefit of the doubt instead of assuming every new werewolf is going to lose control. If you really want to talk with him, then I'll help you find him and let you deal with him, but listen to me right now. If you hurt him, Derek, and _I will set you on fire._ "

Derek flinches, glower darkening, but Stiles doesn't care that what he said was cruel, cruel because Derek Hale has already been the victim of a fire, lost his entire family to one, because Scott is his best friend and Scott is the only person he doesn't have to hide his darkness for, and Stiles would never ever let anything happen to him. Not ever. Not even if he had to be cruel.

He and Derek stare at one another, each trying to intimidate the other and doing a poor job of it before Derek suddenly swoops down, and Stiles flinches a little when he feels warm breath on his neck because nobody has ever gotten this close before and it's disconcerting. He opens his mouth to ask Derek _what_ in the _hell_ he thinks he's doing when the doors suddenly slam open and there's a loud voice, shocked and drunk and embarrassed.

"Whoa! Sorry!"

Stiles glowers at Derek, but the alpha wolf merely smirks at him and Stiles really wants to smack that smug look right off of his face. But he doesn't, because he doesn't have the time to deal with Derek Hale and his glower, because Scott is his best friend and Stiles is supposed to look out for him because that's what best friends do.

Stiles allows Derek to push their way through the crowd because Derek is bigger and stronger and more intimidating, and people part for him like the Red Sea. When Stiles sees Scott, clutching his head as if he were panicking or fainting or having an asthma attack, and Allison hovering over him, Stiles knows that they need to leave now, because Scott could not only reveal werewolves but hurt someone, too, and Scott would always feel a foreboding guilt for the rest of his life if he did so.

"Hey, Scott!" He shouts, and Allison whips her head around, and Stiles understands why Scott fell for her. Because she's beautiful and has big, brown eyes that are filled with so much worry for a boy she just met, and Stiles thinks she might be worth protecting and makes a mental note to add her to his list of people worth giving a shit about.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Stiles continues, keeping his voice casual but concerned so the beta watching them doesn't notice anything off, "You need your inhaler?"

"His inhaler?" Allison immediately asks, her voice so worried and Stiles is really starting to like her, "He has asthma? Is he having an attack? Does he need anything?"

"Doesn't look like it," Stiles keeps his voice thoughtful as Allison helps him drag Scott through the crowd, and Stiles notices how she keeps rubbing his friend's back soothingly, and Stiles really does like her, "It might be all the people. You know, we don't usually get invited to parties and he's not good with crowds, so he might be having a little bit of a freak out. It's alright, though, since inhalers help out asthmatics with all sorts of stuff."

Allison nods and Stiles sees her taking in every bit of information she can so that she can help Scott out with the best of her abilities, and did Stiles mention how much he likes her, "Listen, though, I'm here with a friend. Let's just get Scott outside, and he can drive Scott home. I'll take you home in Scott's car, okay? It'll probably make your parents less suspicious if you come home in the same car you left in, right?"

Allison nods again, and Stiles smirks when she gets surprisingly aggressive, shoving some of the more drunken party goers out of the way when they crowd too close to Scott. Stiles sees Derek waiting for them on the other side of the street, and he nods because Stiles keeps his promises and he promised Derek that he can take care of the newest werewolf in Beacon Hills.

"Look, there he is, alright Scott? Derek's right over there," Stiles says, and he ignores how Scott tenses up at the name, taking his friend's keys from his jacket pocket, "You go with him, okay? I'm gonna take Allison home."

"Stiles..." Scott growls, and Stiles sees Allison furrow her brows at the alpha tone in Scott's voice. Stiles ignores it, though, because he's weird for an omega and he doesn't react to that voice, never has, and he doesn't know why, but he's completely okay with it. He simply gives Allison a smile, and she grins back hesitantly and lets him lead her to Scott's mom's car.

Derek catches his eyes before turning his attention back to Scott, and Stiles grins because he knows Derek is thankful but will never admit it.

* * *

Stiles waits, and he leaves his window open, because he knows Derek is coming. He knows Derek will understand his bond with Scott and he knows Derek will come to him to explain what is happening now that there is a human involved with the supernatural world. And Stiles is right, because Derek comes bounding in, and Stiles watches him as he takes in the room, filled to the brim with books on the supernatural and the inhuman.

Derek catches Stiles' eyes, and Stiles raises his brows in question.

"Scott's fine," Derek mutters, "He got angry that you left him with me and he shifted, so I dragged him into the woods and we fought a little. Some Hunters came-"

"Hunters?" Stiles cuts him off, and he ignores the indignant eyebrow Derek raises, "Supernatural Hunters, then? I figured there had to be something like that if werewolves were real. They don't just Hunt any werewolf they can, though, do they? There has to be some kind of... I don't know, supernatural laws, right?"

Derek sighs through his nose, obviously still annoyed at being interrupted, but he answers anyway, "Yes, there's a Code, but... unfortunately, very few Hunters follow it. Like I said, though, Scott's fine. I scared off the Hunters and got him back home."

"Okay," Stiles shrugs, and he notices Derek contemplating him, probably wondering why Stiles isn't as worried as he should be, "So, are you gonna teach him how to control it?"

"Maybe," Derek grunts, and Stiles shoots him a poisonous look that would have made most others flinch back, but this is Derek Hale and Derek Hale is a werewolf that could crush his skull with his bare hands, so he just raises his brows and crosses his arms like the brooder he is.

"Scott's not my problem unless he does something that would expose us or hurt humans," Derek's voice is gruff, and Stiles wants to roll his eyes because he knows Derek is posturing and that he actually does care but doesn't want to show it, "We have bigger things to worry about. Like the one who turned him."

"So it wasn't you?" Stiles questions, and Derek rolls his eyes as if the human who knew nothing of the supernatural world until a few hours ago should already just _get it_.

"No, it was the Alpha," Derek states.

" _You're_ an alpha," Stiles scoffs, but then he stops and thinks about it because terms like Alpha, Beta, and Omega came up in his research, but they appeared to have nothing to do with human genders and everything to do with werewolves and Packs, but Stiles couldn't find clear definitions.

"My human side is an alpha," Derek relents, "My wolf side isn't. Alpha, Beta, and Omega mean entirely different things when it comes to werewolves. Keep that in mind. And keep an eye on Scott. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, and try not to go into the woods alone. Wouldn't want the Alpha to get its hands on you."

Stiles takes the information in like he always does and stores it away for later because he knows Derek isn't going to say anything more on the subject. He watches as Derek takes in a breath through his nose, and his lips twitch when he notices Derek's eye do the same.

Derek clears his throat, and Stiles wants to laugh at how nervous he suddenly seems, but Stiles knows what it's like to be laughed at, so he relents, and he listens to Derek's stammering, "You, uh... should probably take more scent suppressants..."

Stiles' lips really do twitch up into a smirk this time, because Derek Hale is the first alpha he's met aside from Scott that shows a nervousness about catching his pre-heat scent rather than posture and preen, and Derek glowers at him, but Stiles merely grins back, "I'll keep that in mind, Big Guy."

Derek rolls his eyes, but he gives Stiles a once over before his eyes soften, just a little, and he murmurs quietly, "You smell nice."

It's all he says before he hops out the window as if he were never there, and Stiles wonders why his heart skips a beat.


	3. Second Chance at First Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is vindictive and he hates it when people mess with his friends, and Derek Hale is no exception, even if Derek makes him smile and feel giddy and brings him presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a warning, there is very little Sterek in this chapter; it's mostly Stiles getting information and being a vindictive little shit

"Is that healthy?"

Stiles shoots a look at whoever had the _gall_ to ask him about his Adderall habits because it was nobody's business but his own how many he had to take each day just to concentrate. The boy in question is another omega, and Stiles recognizes Isaac Lahey anywhere because Isaac Lahey is the only kid in Beacon Hills that shows up to school with bruises on his face and the only other person on the mixed-gender cross country team that can keep up with him.

"Probably not," Stiles concedes, because Isaac Lahey is a nice person, and even though Stiles is not, he still knows when to hold back, and he notices when Isaac flinches back at the look he had shot him before, "Taking so many at a time is probably a bad idea, but I need to concentrate because Coach Finstock decided to make me his own personal secretary."

Stiles holds up the clipboard in his hands to show Isaac the papers on the lacrosse team, about strategies and which player gets what position and which player has good enough grades to play and any medical conditions Coach needs to worry about, especially if they'd impair the player's abilities on the field. Isaac nods and the nervous look hasn't left his eyes, and Stiles is not a nice person, so he smirks and grabs Isaac by the hand. The boy flinches but allows Stiles to drag him off, probably too nervous to do anything about it, probably too scared because fear is all he knows.

"You can be my own personal organizer," Stiles states, ignoring Isaac's cringing as he drags the poor, unsuspecting omega into the alpha/beta locker rooms because Stiles is good at ignoring things that doesn't suit his whims. He doesn't mind the odd looks he and Isaac get from the alphas and betas in the room, making a beeline toward Scott. Scott looks dazed, in shock, and Stiles needs to speak with him about werewolves and about Derek Hale and about something called an Alpha and how there may be a third werewolf in town.

So, he turns to Isaac and shoves the clipboard in his hands and orders him around because that's what he's good at, "Isaac, take this and organize it for me real quick. I need to talk to Scott."

Isaac looks dazed, too, Stiles realizes, and a little annoyed and that just makes Stiles amused because he always believed that Isaac was a constant nervous wreck incapable of feeling anything other than fear. Stiles grins at him and Isaac rolls his eyes, but relents, making his way toward an empty bench to do what Stiles asked. Stiles' grin morphs into a smirk before he twists around and makes his way over to Scott.

"Scott," Stiles greets, but Scott is still in shock, staring at everything but seeing nothing, and Stiles ignores it and continues, "Did you talk to Allison?"

"Yeah," Scott murmurs, voice almost monotonous, and Stiles wonders if it has anything to do with the Hunters Derek spoke of and if Derek was omitting something when he said Scott wasn't hurt.

"And..?" Stiles' voice gets a little irritated because he doesn't like one-worded answers, and Scott knows this, knows that Stiles needs to soak up as much information he can because he doesn't like not knowing things, and he will never be able to not, not know things with one-worded sentences.

"She, uh," Scott stammers, probably catching onto Stiles' tone of voice, attempting to speak more clearly, "She was worried about me because she thought I had a panic attack, and she wanted to know if I would be okay for another date with less people around, and..."

"Okay...?" Stiles' voice is still a little irritated because this is not really what he wants to talk about; he wants to talk about the Hunters and werewolves, and Scott knows it, and Stiles is perfectly aware that Scott knows that Stiles knows he's stalling.

"No, no, not okay," Scott's voice is beginning to take on a tone of panic, but Stiles merely raises his brows dispassionately, "The Hunters, the Hunters from last night... her dad was one of them."

"Her father...?" Stiles' voice trails off, and he's actually caught quite off guard, and if he's caught off guard, then Scott must be completely haggard.

"Her father..." Scott murmurs, and Stiles realizes that he's in minor shock, "Shot me... with a cross... bow..."

Scott's eyes widen once he completes his sentence, and Stiles realizes that his friend is probably picturing all the things Allison's father would do to him should the Hunter discover that the boy his daughter is beginning to take an interest in is actually a werewolf.

But Stiles doesn't relent, "Her last name's Argent, right?"

Scott merely nods dazedly, and Stiles thinks this is the most hilarious thing ever. Because Argent is French and Argent means silver, and the Argent family is the silver that hurts the werewolves, and it makes so much more sense because silver is actually a weak metal that would do little damage, and anything coated in silver is far too expensive for just anyone to get their hands on. And Stiles recognizes the name Argent, too, because his father spoke highly of a Chris Argent that entered the station and sold the police state of the art weapons, and how Chris Argent said he wants to do his part to keep this town safe, and Stiles wonders if Chris sold them any weapons that could harm werewolves.

"It makes sense," Stiles states, and Scott whips his head around and stares at him as if he lost his mind, but Stiles knows it's just for show because Scott knows he's never had control over his mind to begin with, "I mean, her dad is a weapon's dealer for police departments; he probably needs a legitimate reason for having a shit load of weapons in his home, and he needs those weapons to be legal, too, just in case something happens. So, yeah, Hunter daddy; makes perfect sense."

Scott blinks, "How do you know that?"

"My dad's the sheriff, dumbass," Stiles scoffs before he walks forward and grabs Scott's equipment and shoves it in the alpha's arms, "Did he recognize you?"

"N-no..."

"Good," Stiles speaks calmly, adjusting the equipment in Scott's arms so that the distracted alpha didn't drop everything, "Does she know about him?"

Scott's eyes widen as if he didn't think about that before, and Stiles wants to roll his eyes at Scott's inability to catch onto things quicker, "I-I don't know. Oh my god, Stiles, what if she does? Oh, _god_ , she's gonna _kill_ me, man, I can't...!"

Scott sounds close to sobbing, but Stiles isn't concerned, because if Allison had known then she would've recognized what was wrong with Scott right away, and she probably would have either been pissed or scared out of her mind that she had gotten so close to a werewolf. Allison is innocent, Stiles can see that already; her father is a different story, but Stiles isn't so sure about him just yet, can't be without meeting him or looking up his records. But Stiles knows that if Chris Argent does anything to harm Scott, Stiles will _ruin_ his family. He'd keep Allison out of it, though, because she's a nice girl and Scott likes her, and Stiles likes her, too, and Stiles didn't forget about adding her to his very small list of people to worry about.

"Calm down," Stiles snips, shoving Scott toward his locker so that the alpha can get dressed, "Just focus on lacrosse for now, okay, and we'll figure everything out after practice. Got it?"

Silence.

" _Scott-_ "

"Okay," Scott answers quickly, recognizing the pissed tone in Stiles' voice, because even though Stiles is good at ignoring things he doesn't like, he doesn't like to be ignored himself and bad things usually happen when Stiles is ignored. Like that time Harris ignored him when he answered that question perfectly, and Stiles snuck into the school that night and unscrewed everything on Harris' chair and laughed when the chemistry teacher fell on his ass the next day. And the detention was so worth it, thank you very much, because Stiles _hates_ being ignored and Harris doesn't ignore his answers anymore.

"Okay," Stiles grins and makes his way back over to Isaac to check over his work. Isaac hands him the clipboard, and Stiles is actually impressed because Isaac organized each player's files based on their skills and lack of skills and which ones had problematic medical conditions and which ones couldn't play because of their grades. Stiles grins at him, and Isaac hesitantly smiles back before Stiles grabs him by the hand and once again drags him off, this time to the field.

Isaac still looks nervous, but he relaxes somewhat when Coach doesn't focus any attention on him, but the players, and even laughs a little when Coach begins harping on Greenburge. Stiles still isn't sure who Greenburge is, and he often wonders if he simply lives inside Coach's head.

"Balinski!"

Stiles jerks at the unexpected shout, and he notices Isaac do the same, before he turns his attention to the Coach.

"Go to the other side of the field," Coach orders, "I want you to keep on eye on the players from that angle and I want you to write down which position you think which person should be in. There's a specific amount of slots for each position; don't go over them. Understand?"

Stiles nods, and Coach nods back before blowing his whistle, and Stiles winces at the sound piercing his ears as Coach practically shoves Stiles into running to the other end of the field. Isaac looks nervous, unsure if he should follow the boy who dragged him out here or stick close to the Coach. His problem is solved for him, though, when Coach Finstock shoves a clipboard in his hands and tells him to organize the players' files. Isaac appears to purse his lips in annoyance because he's already done this; Stiles and Coach practically have the same files on their clipboards, but Stiles merely grins at him as he makes his way to the other side.

Stiles watches the players practically beat each other into the ground, and he immediately writes Jackson's name in one of the slots for the position of captain, because for all that Jackson bugs him, he's talented at sports and he knows how to strategize and keep the other players in line. He makes sure to keep a close eye on Scott because lacrosse is an aggressive game and Scott's a werewolf now and Stiles doesn't know what would make him shift, but he is pretty positive aggression is one of the triggers.

He glances to the side and a grin forms on his lips as he turns his attention back to the players.

"I thought Scott wasn't your problem," Stiles murmurs, ignoring Derek as the alpha stands next to him, turning his attention back to his clipboard and writing down a few more names.

"I said he wasn't unless he does something to expose us or harm someone," Derek reiterates, "And shifting on the field and attacking other players constitutes as both."

"Is that so?" Stiles mumbles, and he can't keep the grin off of his face, and he doesn't know why because this is Derek Hale, and Derek Hale is subtly threatening his best friend, but Stiles is still grinning, "Well, then, as long as you're here, you can make yourself useful. Tell me about werewolves."

"There's a lot to tell."

"I know, but I want you to tell me about what you told me last night. About Alphas, Betas, and Omegas."

Derek is quiet, but he appears contemplative, and Stiles allows him to think it over as he turns his attention back to the field. He catches Isaac's eye, and Isaac looks worried. Stiles can't blame him because he knows that Isaac is seeing a strange, adult alpha standing on a high school field too close for comfort to a teenage omega, and it must look strange and inappropriate, but Stiles merely grins at him. He sees Isaac purse his lips, but he looks back down at the papers Coach ordered him to organize. Stiles can still see his eyes flicking up to them from time to time, but Stiles doesn't mind because he knows that Isaac can't hear them from way over there.

"Like I said," Derek states, and Stiles keeps his focus entirely on him because Derek is going to tell him about werewolves, and Stiles is going to be one step closer to figuring out werewolves and Scott and the possibility of a third wolf in Beacon Hills, "Alpha, Beta, and Omega mean entirely different things when it comes to wolves. A werewolf whose gender is an alpha can be an Alpha wolf, or a Beta wolf, or an Omega wolf. It's confusing, I know, but it makes sense once you get used to it. For werewolves, their gender doesn't matter, it's what rank you are that does."

"So, like real wolves," Stiles states, "Canines are one of the few species that don't have alpha, beta, and omega sexes, just male and female, and some of the ranks in the wolf packs are called Alpha, Beta, and Omega. It's a hierarchy, and werewolves follow it, too, right?"

"Exactly," Derek looks and sounds vaguely impressed, and Stiles wonders why that makes him feel almost giddy, "There's a big difference, though, because real wolves have so many names for each rank of the pack members. Werewolf Packs work a little differently, and Beta and Omega don't mean the same things that the ranks in real wolf packs do. Alphas, they're the leaders; they run the Pack and their word is law, and they can make you obey them even if you try not to. Betas, they're average werewolves; they have the standard powers of weres. The only true difference between a Beta werewolf and an Omega one is that Betas are in Packs."

"So, Omega is the term for lone wolves," Stiles states, pursing his lips, "Why do I suddenly feel insulted?"

"Probably because Omega werewolves are the weakest," Derek shrugs, "And using the term Omega for them could probably be considered insulting to human omegas in the know."

"Just a little," Stiles whispers, lips curling sarcastically, but Derek merely rolls his eyes.

"There are powerful, _powerful_ Omega werewolves running around," Derek relents, "But, most of them can't reach that level of power, though, because Packs make us stronger. And I mean that literally; Pack bonds and support, it strengthens us, helps us heal faster, helps us heal _better_ , and they keep us stable and sane and human."

"And what about Scott?" Stiles questions, because Scott is his best friend and Scott is the only person he doesn't have to keep his darkness hidden away for out of fear of scaring him off, and Stiles doesn't want to lose him, doesn't want Scott to die simply because he couldn't gain control because he didn't have a packmate.

"Scott's wolf recognizes you as Pack," Derek states, "It's amazing, really, he should've killed you by now, or at least tried to, but he hasn't."

"Oh, thank you for that," Stiles narrows his eyes, shooting Derek a rather mean smile, "Thanks."

Derek simply shrugs, lifting his brows mockingly, and Stiles rolls his eyes and he wonders why he's having fun. Because he shouldn't be having fun, because this is Derek Hale, and Derek Hale is mocking him and this is a serious conversation because it could help Stiles help Scott, and Stiles shouldn't be having fun.

"Is there a name for human Pack members?" Stiles wonders, because Scott's wolf considers him Pack and Stiles wants to know if he'd have a rank because that sounds awesome.

"Deltas," Derek answers, "Humans in Packs are known as Deltas, and on the rare occasions that Packs take on non-human, non-wolf packmates, they're called Gammas."

"Non-human and non-wolf, so werewolves aren't the only thing out there, then?" Stiles wonders, because if werewolves are real, then the possibility for other supernatural creatures being real is strong, and Stiles wonders about the other things out there, like vampires or fae or even demons and angels, "Should I be scared of the dark?"

"Yes," Derek says it so casually, like it should be a fact of life, like all humans should learn to fear what goes bump in the night, but they can't because those things are myths to them and so they're in danger, always, because they don't believe.

Stiles simply shrugs, though, shooting Derek a little grin at his answer because Stiles isn't like most humans; most humans would be scared or reluctant at what's happening, but Stiles finds it exciting and he wants to know more, wants to know everything there is to know about the supernatural.

"So, tell me about werewolf ranks versus human genders," Stiles states, "Do genders have an affect on their rank, or is it an equal opportunity thing? And do the instincts each human gender have affect werewolf instincts? Like, do werewolf ranks come with their own set of instincts like human genders, and how badly would those instincts affect each other?"

"It's equal opportunity," Derek answers, "A werewolf whose gender is omega can easily become Pack Alpha, and they'd probably make better Alphas than any other gender; because omegas, usually, are instinctively nurturing and caring, and that, combined with their instincts as an Alpha wolf to guide and protect and lead their Pack makes them the perfect choices as Pack Alphas. But, still, like I said, it's equal opportunity; any wolf, no matter what gender, has the capability of becoming Alpha; it's all a matter of how they come into power."

"Cool," Stiles grins, because this is awesome; because even though the Equal Rights Amendment came into power nearly sixty years ago, there's still an asshole or two that looks down on him simply because of his gender, and the prospect of a species of humanoids completely avoiding that mindset is amazing and wonderful, "And how do they come into power?"

"It depends," Derek shrugs, "It's usually inherited. It's just a matter of which wolf in the Pack the Alpha chose as their successor, so... it's a  _conscious_  inheritance, not _just_ an inheritance."

"But...?" Stiles pushes.

"It can also be stolen," Derek states, looking grim, "A Beta or an Omega wolf can steal the Alpha's power by killing them."

"Does that affect their power at all?"

"Normally Alphas like that have a harder time controlling their instincts. Because they were never meant to be Alpha, so their instincts fight against them."

Stiles finds this interesting because, maybe, this Alpha Derek spoke of is going through just that.

"And, yes, human instincts could affect wolf instincts," Derek continues, "Like, for example, an alpha whose wolf rank is Beta or Omega might be confused when dealing with a stronger wolf; because, their human side, their alpha side, is telling them to fight back because alphas don't handle being challenged too well, but their wolf side would recognize the stronger wolf and want to submit, and it could end up making the alpha-Beta or alpha-Omega's instincts go completely haywire."

"That sounds... not good," Stiles states, brows furrowing.

"Well," Derek shrugs, "Most wolves are taught or are forced to learn in their own time how to deal and control those instincts. Those that don't are usually feral."

"So, werewolves can regress into complete animals?" Stiles wonders.

"Yes," Derek states, "And it's usually Omegas because they don't have packmates to keep them grounded. But, it can happen to Betas or Alphas, especially if that Alpha doesn't have a Pack since Alphas' instincts are much more powerful than other wolves. Sometimes, they can be saved, but it's dangerous and a lot of people could die in the process, so... even other werewolves think it's safer to just put the feral ones out of their misery."

Stiles is quiet and he watches Scott as his best friend lines up with the other players to take on Jackson, because Jackson is the star player and anyone who can beat Jackson will have an immediate slot on the team. Stiles notices Derek follow his line of sight out of the corner of his eye, and Stiles sees his lips purse thoughtfully before he sighs heavily.

"I'll make sure it doesn't happen to Scott," Derek relents, "Having you is helping, but he really does need another wolf. I'll help him out, alright? Just... just try to keep an eye on him because I can't be there all the time when I'm trying to find the Alpha."

"Speaking of..." Stiles murmurs, watching as Jackson knocks back player after player, "You said that Alphas feel their instincts more strongly than other wolves... the Alpha that turned Scott, it's a rogue wolf, right? It doesn't have a Pack? So, is it feral and just following it's instincts? It turned Scott because it needs a Pack?"

"I'm not sure," Derek shrugs, "I just know there's an Alpha because of Scott; because Alphas are the only werewolves with the ability to turn humans."

"Okay," Stiles nods slowly, taking in all the information that's been given to him, "So, it's not like in the legends where any wolf can turn a human; only a specific wolf can. So... how are we supposed to tell a part an Alpha from a Beta from an Omega?"

"Their eyes," Derek shrugs, "I can't really explain it because it's a supernatural reaction to our powers and instincts, but... Alphas have red eyes, and Betas and Omegas have yellow eyes."

"Scott..." Stiles murmurs.

"Yeah, like Scott; his eyes should be yellow," Derek nods, shrugging again.

"No, no, you... _idiot_ , I mean Scott's eyes are yellow," Stiles snaps, and Derek's head whips forward to follow Stiles' line of sight. Stiles watches Scott from his place next to Derek, as Scott's eyes glow brightly as he takes his place in the front of the line. And Stiles winces when Scott shoves Jackson to the ground, and Jackson clutches his arm and Stiles vaguely wonders if it's broken. Stiles drops his clipboard and looks at Derek for a moment before running after Scott, whose on the ground and clutching his head as if her were having the mother of all migraines.

Stiles quickly clutches Scott's shoulders, "Scott, Scott, you good? Do you need to leave?"

"It's happening," Scott's voice is a growl, but it's panicked, too, so Stiles knows that his Scott is still here with him, at least for the moment, "I can't control it, Stiles, I can't-"

Stiles shoves him to his feet before shoving him forward. He looks back at Derek as he leads Scott to the locker rooms, and Derek is watching him like a predator, like he's waiting for Scott to screw up so that Derek can claw him into submission. Stiles narrows his eyes at him before looking away, and he catches Isaac's eyes this time. Isaac looks worried and confused and scared all at once, and Stiles wonders if he should feel bad about dragging Isaac out here, because he doesn't; doesn't feel bad in the slightest, so Stiles merely grins at him in hopes that it will calm his fellow omega down so that Isaac doesn't follow him and Scott and expose them.

Isaac purses his lips again before looking away, turning his attention to the alphas and betas surrounding Jackson as Coach Finstock helps him up, and he grabs a water bottle and runs it out to them, and Stiles wonders why he suddenly feels proud.

He shoves Scott into the locker rooms and yanks his helmet off to get a better look at him. Scott has grown fangs and his eyes are bright yellow and glowing, and they should be eerie, but as it stands, Stiles only finds them fascinating.

"Scott, you-"

_"Get away from me!!"_

Stiles jerks back in surprise at the sudden, inhuman roar that came from Scott's mouth. Stiles keeps his eyes on Scott as he hops into the rafters, all predator and no human, and Stiles backs away from him slowly. Scott growls and he follows him just as slowly, but at least Stiles' slow movements keep him calm enough to not hop back down and maul him. It's when Stiles' back smacks right into the fire extinguisher that Scott jumps from that rafters, roaring as he lands in front of Stiles, because now his prey is trapped between him and the walls and he has nowhere else to go. 

Stiles, though, simply scoffs and jerks the extinguisher from the wall. When Scott reacts to his movements, pouncing, Stiles quickly rears back and slams the end of the extinguisher as hard as he can against Scott's head. Scott growls in pain and annoyance and jerks back in what is clearly surprise, and Stiles takes the opportunity to spray Scott with the extinguisher in hopes that the freezing foam will snap his friend out of it. Stiles backs out of the room as Scott grabs his head and falls against the bench, and he clutches the extinguisher close in case he needs it again.

Stiles glances to the side when he feels eyes on him, and he shoots Derek a glare when the alpha wolf does nothing but stand there at the other end of the hall and watch him. Stiles notices his hand move and he can see claws flexing, and Stiles' glare darkens.

"Stiles...?"

Stiles turns his attention back to Scott because Scott's voice is human and confused and frightened. He glances to where Derek was standing, scoffing when he sees that the alpha has disappeared, before rushing back into the room. Scott is clutching his head, right where Stiles hit him, and he looks awful; like he just woke up from one of the night terrors Stiles used to get after his mother died.

"You tried to kill me," Stiles states casually, and Scott jerks up and looks at him in horror. Stiles drops he extinguisher and kneels in front of Scott, because Scott is his best friend and he's hurt and confused and Stiles is supposed to take care of him.

"It's anger," Stiles states, "Your pulse, more specifically. Anything that makes your pulse get out of control could trigger your shift."

"But, that's lacrosse..." Scott says and his voice his breathy and sad, and Stiles wants to help him, but he doesn't know how, "It's a violent game, it's gonna make my pulse rise." 

"Well," Stiles shrugs, "It'll be _more_ violent when you shift on the field and _maul_ another player. Scott, you can't play Saturday; you need to get out of the game until you learn to control your shift."

"But, I'm first line..." Scott murmurs, and he sounds so disappointed and Stiles wants to be sorry, but he can't be because Scott is a werewolf now and they have no time to worry about teenager problems.

"Not anymore, Scott," Stiles states, "You can't play the way you are now. It's selfish. It could put people in danger."

"I know..." Scott murmurs again, lips pursing sadly, "I know it's selfish, but I want to be selfish because I can finally play the game I love without passing out from asthma attacks, and I finally met someone that likes me for me and not because I can get them an in on the other, better lacrosse players, and my mom is gonna take off so she can see me play for once. Stiles, I... I want to be selfish...."

Stiles sighs and he purses his lips thoughtfully. Because this is Scott and Scott is his best friend and Stiles is supposed to take care of his best friend. And his best friend is sad and disappointed and hurt because his life is finally going the way he's always wanted it to go, but he had to lose his humanity for it and now he can't be happy because he's a werewolf now and werewolves have no time for teenage issues.

But, Stiles relents, because Stiles is smart and knows things and he notices things, and he knows that he can easily find a way to help Scott get under control.

"Okay," Stiles murmurs, sighing a little, "Okay, we'll figure it out, Scott. Promise."

And Scott beams and it makes Stiles happy, because he made Scott happy and Scott is his best friend.

* * *

Stiles grins at Scott when the alpha answers his Skype call, and Scott grins back hesitantly. Scott is nervous, still unsure if he should play, but Stiles promised him he would and Stiles never breaks his promises, so he's hopeful. He catches sight of an old, worn book in Stiles' hands because Stiles is showing it off, wants him to see it.

"What is that?" Scott asks, because he knows Stiles wants him to; that's why he's showing it to him.

"It's a book about werewolves," Stiles answers immediately, setting the book back on his desk, "It's in Old French so it's hard to read, but I already translated some of it and it mostly coincides with what Derek told me today, so it seems legit."

"Where did you find it?" Scott's brow furrows, because where in the world would Stiles find an Old French book that has factual information on werewolves? It seems improbable, but this is Stiles and Stiles is smart and he always finds answers for everything.

Stiles smirks, "I might've snuck into the librarian's office and rifled through the books she was going to recycle."

Scott shoots him a look, because Scott is a white knight and breaking the law is something he's never tolerated, and he wishes Stiles wouldn't either because Stiles is the _sheriff's_ son and breaking the law should've been browbeaten out of him.

Stiles merely shrugs, "Hey, she was getting rid of it. I doubt she'll even notice it missing. I mean, come on, how many people in Beacon Hills would be able to read in Old French? She probably would've given it to a historian or something."

Scott sighs because Stiles is right, like always, so he relents, "And what did you learn from Derek when you talked to him today?"

"You're kind of a Beta," Stiles answers, "Because Alpha, Beta, and Omega are ranks for werewolves, not genders, and werewolves with Packs are Betas; Derek says that your wolf considers me Pack, so you'd be a Beta. He also says that the only werewolves with the ability to change a human are Alphas, and that Alphas have red eyes. He also says that he's _not_ an Alpha, so, if he's not lying, there's a possibility of a third werewolf in town; one that is bigger, stronger, and generally better than you and Derek combined. And it may or may not be feral."

Scott sighs, letting his forehead hit his desk, and he speaks, voice muffled and filled with dread, "So, not only do I have to keep my grades up and figure out a way to play Saturday, but I have to deal with a werewolf that seems to hate me and an _Alpha_ werewolf that's gone psychotic. Great..."

He sighs again before lifting his head, and Stiles winces sympathetically at the dark circles he sees under his friend's eyes, "And what about Jackson? Did you learn anything about him?"

"It's nothing bad," Stiles shrugs, and it's the truth because what Jackson has is harmless, just a little painful, "Separated shoulder. He shouldn't play Saturday, but knowing him, he will anyway, but he won't be as good as he usually is, so everyone will be counting on you."

Scott sighs again, a quiet whimper of frustration escaping him, and Stiles purses his lips apologetically because what he's saying isn't helping Scott, and his entire goal for this week is to help Scott get into the game Saturday. He pauses, eyeing the shadow in the corner of Scott's room for a long moment, trying to understand what he's seeing.

His eyes narrow in anger when he realizes what it is, but before he can say anything, Derek is already jerking Scott from his chair and slamming him into the wall. Stiles can hear his growls clearly, and he glares as he listens to Derek threaten Scott;  _stay out of the game, if you shift, I'll kill you_.

When Derek hops out of the window, Scott falls back into his chair looking dazed and scared, and now Stiles is angry. Because before it was amusing because Derek's threats were subtle and barely there, but now he's crowding Scott and threatening him with death, and Stiles can't tolerate that. It's not funny anymore, and when Scott catches his eyes, Stiles cracks his knuckles and Scott knows that his friend is going to get back at Derek for this.

Stiles will make him regret ever threatening his best friend.

* * *

"Why is there a rumor going around that your loser friend isn't playing Saturday?"

Stiles grins, and glances at Lydia and takes in her frustration at him being able to keep up with her in solving their math problems as well he can. Because Lydia is a secret genius, but she's also a bit shallow and she likes to humiliate people she's upset with; and she's upset with Scott so, by extension, Stiles is her target, too.

"The rumor is all lies," Stiles murmurs, "He'll be playing Saturday and he'll win the game for Jackson." And Stiles knows it's dangerous and selfish and a little stupid, but Derek threatened his best friend and Stiles wants to make him pay for it. He wants to rub it in Derek's face, too, and having Scott play Saturday will do just that.

"It _better_ be," Lydia sniffs, "Because after brutally injuring my boyfriend, he won't be at the top of his game Saturday, and I prefer my boyfriend at _peak_ performance."

She says it almost seductively, and Stiles grins because he can recognize an innuendo anywhere. And Lydia is a spiteful goddess, and anyone who messes with her or her friends always ends up at the bottom of the social ladder, so Stiles has no problem in involving her, "What if I told you those rumors were going around about my loser friend because some other loser threatened him to stay out of the game?"

Lydia pauses and she looks a little surprised and a little interested, and she glances over at him, masking her emotions with disinterest, "A loser from the opposing team threatened your loser friend, is that it?"

Stiles smirks, because that lie will fit because the opposing team is already here and staying in the hotel down town, and it's also truthful because, after threatening Scott, Derek is now someone he will oppose until the alpha wolf gets his attitude checked, "You could say that."

Lydia purses her lips and rolls her eyes like the valley girl she pretends to be, "Then _do_ something about it because if Scott doesn't play Saturday, then we'll _lose._ And if we lose, my boyfriend will be captain of the _losing_ team, and I don't date losers."

"Of course," Stiles murmurs, and the two slam their pieces of chalk on the ledge of the chalkboard at the same time. Lydia sniffs at that, but Stiles merely grins at her and she rolls her eyes, and the two make their way back to their seats as the teacher praises them for their work.

* * *

"Allison," Stiles greets, voice cheerful, and Allison whips her head around to face whoever called out to her. She grins when she recognizes Stiles, and she immediately makes her way over to him. 

"Hey," She smiles, and Stiles grins back. She furrows her brows a little, and he knows that she caught the sharp calculating look in his eyes, a stark contrast to his cheerful smile and voice.

"So, listen," He states, " _I_ am working on a bit of a pet project, and I found this book that will help me out a little. But, uh, it's in Old French. And, you know, _you're_ French, so I was wondering if you could help me translate it a little?"

"Oh, really?" She immediately looks interested, taking hold of the book Stiles showed her. It's old and worn and the cover has a snarling wolf on it, and she rifles through the pages and takes in the words; some she recognizes, some she doesn't, and it interests her enough to want to help him out.

"I would love to help you out, Stiles," Allison agrees, "You have my number, so text me whenever you get the chance to come over and you can meet me at my house. My dad has tons of Old French books and translators, so we could probably do it quicker if we work there."

"Cool," Stiles grins, and it's a real grin because now he has someone who will help him gain more information to use at his disposal, and he is one step closer to learning about werewolves and Alphs and turning, and maybe even more.

"Allison." 

The two glance over at Scott as he rushes toward them; he looks worried and angry and frustrated, and before Stiles can ask what's wrong, he's already speaking, "Where'd you get the purse?"

"Oh, my purse?" Allison asks, lifting it a little in question, "It was in my locker. I must've left it at the party; Lydia knows my combination, so she probably brought it back for me-"

"Did she say she brought it back, or did somebody give it to her?"

Scott's voice is a mask of frustration, and Allison furrows her brows. She glances at Stiles, but Stiles simply grins at her, and she turns back to Scott, "Like who?"

"Like Derek."

"Your friend?"

"He's _not_ my friend..." Scott rumbles and Allison's eyes widen a little. She glances at Stiles again, and Stiles shrugs, so she turns back to Scott.

"Listen, I should probably get going."

"Allison-"

"I- really gotta go. Remember, you can come over anytime you get the chance to, Stiles, and I'll help you out with that book," Her voice is annoyed and upset, and she storms off after she finishes her sentence. Stiles waves goodbye before glancing over at Scott.

"Good job," Stiles snips, and Scott rolls his eyes.

"Did you give Derek Allison's purse?" Scott questions, and Stiles shrugs.

"Derek and I met out on the patio," Stiles answers, "She must've left it out there so that she didn't have to carry it all night. She hid it under a chair, actually, so at least she's smart enough to know that drunken idiots might try to get their hands on it. Derek said he needed to use something as incentive against you, like something with Allison's scent, and I knew it was hers because I looked for an ID. Derek must've brought it back."

Stiles grins because Scott can't pull off an angry face, not really. He looks more like a pouting puppy than anything.

* * *

Scott doesn't wait for Stiles to completely stop the jeep before he's rushing out of the car and shouting for Derek. Stiles rolls his eyes because Stiles may be impatient, but Scott is even worse, and he stops the jeep and gets out. He walks behind Scott and he looks around the old, burnt, debilitated house that could've been a home once; a bright, happy home filled with family and friends and _Pack_ before it all went up in smoke.

Stiles eyes the house and he takes in the charred remains before he drags his gaze elsewhere. He eyes the patted down dirt on the side of the house, and he smacks Scott's arm.

"What?" Scott mutters, glancing over at him.

"What's that?" Stiles points out the dirt, and Scott follows his finger. The alpha furrows his brows before glancing back at Stiles, voice filled with concern.

"It... smells like blood..." Scott murmurs.

Stiles simply smirks, "Interesting."

But, then Derek's there and he's threatening Scott, _again_ , and Stiles wants to hit him or maim him or _kill him_ , because Scott is his best friend and Stiles would never, ever let _anyone_ who threatens Scott get away with it. Derek glances at him as he tears his claws through Scott's lacrosse net, snatched from the back of Stiles' jeep, and Stiles smirks at him because Derek doesn't understand just how dangerous non-Hunter humans can be, but Stiles will show him. Show him exactly what happens when people mess with his friends and why no one at school ever tries anything with him even though he's at the near bottom of the social ladder.

Stiles tilts his head when Derek continues to stare, and Derek does the same, and it makes Stiles smile, a real, cheerful smile, and Stiles doesn't know why. There is a long silence, and Scott glances between the two uncomfortably before Derek suddenly tosses the stick into the air, and he's gone by the same Scott snatches it back.

"Scott," Stiles mutters, and Scott spins around to face him, looking defeated and angry, and Stiles smiles encouragingly, "Remember, I told you I'd figure out a way to help you. So, c'mon."

"Where are we going?" Scott asks as he hops into Stiles' jeep, voice glum, and Stiles grins wider.

"You know how much I love baseball?"

Scott glances at him, a nervous glint in his eyes because he knows Stiles, and he knows Stiles is planning something. Something that will probably end with Scott getting hurt in one way or another, because Stiles has done that before. Especially when he's angry with Scott about something.

"Yes...?" He says slowly, brows furrowed and voice confused.

"Well, we're gonna play a different version of it," Stiles smiles, sweet and cheerful, and it makes Scott want to run. And Scott wishes he _did_ run when Stiles parks in the middle of nowhere deep in the woods and duct tapes his hands together behind his back before walking back over to his jeep and snatching a baseball bat from the back.

"What are you doing...?" Scott's voice is very nearly panicked, but Stiles merely smiles at him, bouncing a baseball up and down in his hands.

"So, we've already figured out that it's your pulse rising that causes the shift," Stiles states, sounding like a teacher standing in front of his class, only a teacher that likes his job a bit _too_ much, "So, we're going to work on getting your pulse under control. Reign in your anger, and if you attack me, Scott, I will _beat_ you with this bat."

Scott swallows thickly before he nods, determination entering his eyes because he's already attacked Stiles once, and Stiles is his best friend ever and he never wants to do anything that will hurt Stiles.

"Ready?"

Scott nods, and then Stiles is suddenly pelting him with ball after ball, batting them as hard as he can, and he can't even bring himself to wonder where the hell Stiles got all these baseballs _(probably stole them from school, he thinks vaguely)_. One hits his head, another his shoulder, and when he tries to protest, one smacks straight into his groin and everything goes white for a second before red enters his vision. He pants and growls and he digs his head into his arms, and he can't remember when he broke through the tape, and he feels so _hot_ and it's worse than his first rut, and his first rut was _painful_.

"Scott," Stiles' voice brings him back and he glances at the hand entering his vision, and his breathing calms and the heat recedes, "You okay? You started shifting..."

"I can't... control it, Stiles..." Scott pants, and he wants to sob because if he can't do it, then Derek will kill him.

"Okay, look," Stiles' voice is firm and soothing, and Scott looks back up at him because Stiles always has all the answers and he's always helped Scott out of the worst situations, "Think about Allison, okay? Think about Allison because you like her, and you don't ever want to make her scared of you, and you never, ever want to do anything that will hurt her, right? Just think about Allison."

Scott does; he thinks about her smile and her brown eyes, and how she always looks happy to see him even when Lydia doesn't, and he thinks about how she smells like cinnamon and sugar, and he barely notices when Stiles pelts him with another ball, then another. He feels pain, but his anger recedes when he thinks about how worried she had been for him at the party even though she didn't really know him then. He feels a brief heat before it's gone again, and he whips his head up to face Stiles in amazement and surprise.

Stiles grins at him, "You did it, man. You barely shifted. We just keep doing this till Saturday until you get it perfect, and you should be good to go."

Scott beams, "This is _perfect!_ God, thank you, Stiles!"

"Slow your roll, bud," Stiles cuts him off, "I still got a job for you to do."

* * *

" _Why,_ " Scott asks slowly, voice low and confused and a little frustrated, "Do you want me to look through the _morgue_?"

Stiles merely grins at him, giving away nothing, and Scott really wishes he knew what his fiend of a friend is planning, "You said you smelled blood, Scott. I just want to test a theory. Now go sniff the dead girl and see if the scents are the same."

Scott sighs, shooting Stiles a look, but Stiles merely smiles back at him, and Scott relents. He glances around before walking through the double doors, following the hospital signs that point into the direction of the morgue. Stiles chuckles a little, because a frustrated Scott is a funny Scott, and he takes a seat in the waiting room.

He glances up when heels clack before stopping right in front of him, and he raises a brow at Lydia. She crosses her arms and pops her hip and throws her hair back in the most haughty manner Stiles has ever seen her do anything.

"Did you solve your loser friend's problem?" She sniffs, and Stiles grins up at her.

"Almost," He states, smirking, knowing very well how Lydia will react to such a word.

" _Almost,_ " She snips, "Isn't good enough."

Stiles merely continues grinning up at her, and she rolls her eyes before turning her attention Jackson as he makes his way into the waiting room. Jackson shoots him a look, but Stiles merely smiles and waves his fingers at him, and the alpha boy rolls his eyes before turning his attention to his girlfriend, and Stiles thinks he and Lydia are perfect for each other. 

He snickers at Lydia as she goads Jackson on before looking up at Scott as the boy rushes into the room.

Stiles raises his brows.

"It's the same," Scott sighs, "The scent is the same."

Stiles smirks.

* * *

"I _still_ don't understand why we're doing this..." Scott sighs as he and Stiles grab their shovels from the back of Stiles' jeep. His friend has been behaving oddly - well, not exactly odd, because this is the kind of behavior Stiles showcases whenever he's really pissed - ever since Derek showed up in his room that night, and Scott really wishes Stiles would start letting him in on his plans.

"Lots of reason, Scotty," Stiles says so cheerfully, and Scott is actually starting to feel a little bit sorry for Derek, "Now help me dig."

"But, what if Derek shows up?"

"Then run."

"But, what if he catches us?"

"See, Scott," Stiles smiles, "You're assuming we're going to be running in the same direction. No, you're going to go one way, and I'm going to go the other, and you're a werewolf, so he'll be more inclined to go after you, and if he catches you, too bad."

"I don't _like_ that plan, Stiles," Scott whines.

Stiles shrugs dispassionately, "Too bad."

Scott rolls his eyes, but he continues to help Stiles dig, because Stiles is smart and he knows things other people don't and he knows how to solve mysteries better than any detective Scott knew. And, if Stiles wants to solve a mystery, he won't stop until he does, and he'll drag you into it no matter how much you protest, so Scott thinks it's better to just give in now and get it over with. So, they dig, and when they come across something beneath their shovels, they jump down and brush the dirt away. Scott jumps back at the sight of half a wolf in shock, but Stiles merely looks over it curiously.

"I thought you said the scent was the same," Stiles murmurs, looking over the body, and Scott wonders how his friend is not sick at the sight.

"I-It _was_!" Scott protests, "The scent was _exactly_ the same!"

"Good," Stiles murmurs, "I got what I need, then."

Scott raises his brows in confusion, but then Stiles is looking over a flower near the upturned dirt with more fascination than Scott feels a flower deserves.

"What is it?" He asks, because he, like Stiles, doesn't like not knowing things, but he's not as smart as Stiles so he can't catch on as quickly, and it makes him a bit more impatient.

"Wolfsbane," Stiles answers.

Scott raises his brows, "What?"

"Wolfsbane is a plant," Stiles speaks slowly and precisely, as if he were speaking to a toddler and not a teenager, and Scott glowers at him, "It is a poisonous plant, and it is supposedly one of the werewolves' few weaknesses."

"Okay," Scott nods, "So why is it out here?"

"Don't know, Scott, but I am _very_ disappointed in you," Stiles sniffs, "And your lack of pop culture knowledge."

Stiles plucks the flower and he furrows his brows at the sight of a rope tied to it. He pulls at the rope and he follows the pattern the rope makes in the dirt as Scott watches him, and he vaguely realizes the pattern the rope makes is a spiral. But, then Scott is crying out for him and Stiles spins around and catches the cold, dead eyes of the girl within the grave.

And Stiles grins, because now he has exactly what he needs to make Derek pay.

* * *

Derek thinks Stiles is actually kind of beautiful. It doesn't say much, though, because he thinks lots of people are beautiful, and he might be more inclined to like Stiles a little more if the human would quit provoking him. But, then again, Stiles fighting back is one of the reasons Derek thinks he's beautiful because he's never been attracted to the omegas that just take everything that's given to them. And Stiles is much better at fighting back than most omegas, because his bite is worse than his bark, and Derek knows this because he saw the way Stiles practically bashed his friend's head in with a fire extinguisher when Scott lost control.

And he's smart, too, and Derek knows he's smart because he was able to keep up with and retain every single piece of information Derek threw his way about werewolves. No other human new to this life was able to do that, at least no human that Derek met. And Stiles even added his own bit of information in, and Derek was surprised to hear how right he was about werewolves and about what's legend and what's not.

But, still, Stiles can be wrong, Derek realizes, because he's currently sitting in the back of a police car because he's being arrested for murdering his own sister. And Derek wishes Stiles would mind his own business, no matter how attractive he is or how good his pre-heat scent smelled, because he'll never be able to walk around town for _groceries_ after this because everyone's going to look at him like _he's_ the psychotic Alpha running around Beacon Hills.

And Stiles doesn't know when to quit, Derek realizes, because he's hopping into the police car and twisting his body around to face him through the cage that separates them.

"So," Stiles says, and his voice is casual and smug all at once, and Derek wishes it were appropriate to slap omegas, "That girl... she was a werewolf. You keep talking about an Alpha running around town, and you also said that Alphas can have their power stolen. You also speak very highly of Packs, so it's a little unusual for you to be running around without one. Unless that girl was in your Pack. And the only other surviving member of the Hale family that left Beacon Hills was Laura Hale. Your sister."

Derek glowers at him darkly, but Stiles merely smiles and continues on, "So, here's what I think. I think your sister got mauled by an Omega wolf, and I think that Omega wolf stole her Alpha power. Am I right so far? So now, you're here trying to figure out who and what killed her. It would explain a few things, because I doubt you would've come back to Beacon Hills otherwise. What do you think about what I think?"

His voice is cheerful and sweet and Derek sputters at him, because this omega wasn't wrong and assuming things about him like he thought he was. He knew exactly what was going on, but then...

"You... you _know_ I didn't kill her, but you called the police anyway?"

Stiles grins, and it's all teeth like a shark, but his voice is still sweet as can be, and it's beautiful, "I don't like it when people threaten my friends, Derek. But, hey, don't worry. There's no evidence, so you'll be outta here by Saturday. _After_ the game."

Derek gapes, and he falls back against his seat limply as Stiles gets jerked out of the car by the sheriff. This omega got him arrested for _murder_ , knowing full well that Derek is innocent, solely because he threatened his friend and told him he couldn't play that stupid,  _stupid_  lacrosse game Saturday, and Derek wonders why he finds that vindictiveness and darkness and _craziness_ so beautiful on Stiles.

And Derek wonders what deity he pissed off to deserve to constantly be attracted to the psychotic ones.

* * *

"Look at this."

Lydia rolls her eyes upward, staring at the lacrosse glove Jackson has shoved in her face disinterestedly.

" _Why,_ " Her voice is low and filled with attitude and disdain, "Are you handing me this when you know very well I don't like to be _handed_ things?"

"Will you just _look_ at it?" Jackson demands, voice frustrated, and Lydia rolls her eyes and snatches the glove from him. She looks at the small holes in the fingers of the glove before rolling her eyes back toward Jackson.

"Well," She snips, "It looks like Scott needs to cut his nails."

Jackson stares at her thoughtfully, and Lydia rolls her eyes again, "You want to find out what's going on, don't you?"

"You do, too," Jackson shoots back, and Lydia rolls her eyes yet again because Jackson knows her too well, and he knows how much she loves solving puzzles and equations and mysteries, but he's Jackson and he's supposed to know her that well, so she relents.

"Fine," She shrugs, "Sticking close to him will help us learn faster. And pushing our way in on Scott and Allison's little date is _one_ way to stick close to Scott."

Jackson narrows his eyes at her, looking annoyed, like he's dreading it already, "You want to go out on a double date with _McCall?_ "

Lydia smiles at him and he lets his head fall back in annoyance, but Lydia doesn't care. She wonders if whatever's happening to Scott has anything to do with what Stiles said, about the loser that threatened Scott into not playing. She glances to the side and she narrows her eyes at the strange man staring at her and Jackson from across the field, but then the man is twisting around and walking off, so Lydia doesn't let it bother her too much.

She does make sure, though, to add it to her list of things to question Stiles about.

* * *

When Stiles gets home that night, he grins up at Derek as the alpha wolf stands from his seat on the end of Stiles' bed, and Stiles wonders why he's happy and not upset that the werewolf broke into his room and waited for him.

"Alright," Derek sighs, rolling his eyes in defeat and anger and indignation, "I won't mess with Scott anymore. Just try not to get me arrested for _murdering_ my sister again."

"You're only allowed to defend yourself if he goes crazy, understand? Because I can get you arrested for _so_ much more, my friend," Stiles states, brushing past him and tossing the keys to his jeep on his desk. He pauses, though, when he see the blue wolfsbane sitting in a rather pretty, white vase, and he whips around to face Derek.

The werewolf shrugs, not meeting his eyes, muttering, "An apology."

Stiles grins, because wolfsbane is deadly and beautiful all at once, and he takes the vase and sets it on his end table, brushing past Derek to do so. 

"Careful," Derek murmurs and Stiles pauses because it's _right_ next to his _ear_ , and he can feel Derek's breath on him, _and when did Derek get that close_ , "It's poisonous."

Stiles glances at him, but Derek is already brushing past him and hopping out the window. And if Stiles moves the wolfsbane, yet again, into a spot where it can be seen from all angles of the room, it's not because he _likes_ that Derek got him a present.

Not at all.


	4. Pack Mentality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is bonding with Derek, he knows it, and he doesn't mind that it's over dead mothers; and meeting Chris Argent for the first time is actually kind of fun. And just how much do Lydia and Jackson actually know?

Stiles groans in annoyance as his phone continues ringing and ringing and _ringing_ , and he limply rolls onto his side. He opens his eyes, irritation alight in them, before snatching his phone from the end table and flipping it open.

"Hello...?" He grunts, voice husky from sleep and annoyed from being awoken.

"Stiles...!"

Stiles immediately sits up, fully awake, because this is Scott, and Scott is sobbing and crying and his voice is panicked, and Stiles is going to _kill_ whoever caused this. Because Scott is his best friend, and Stiles is supposed to take care of his best friend.

"Scott?" He snaps, frustration and concern masking his voice, and his lips curl in anger when he hears Scott sob again.

"Stiles, I-... I think... I _killed_ her, Stiles, she's dead, she's _dead!_ "

"What?" Stiles furrows his brows, anger seeping out of him, because now he's confused. Somebody didn't hurt Scott, but Scott's crying anyway, and Stiles doesn't quite get it.

"I... Allison, I-... We were in the bus, and I just, I just went crazy, Stiles, and I think I killed her, I think I-"

"Scott," Stiles interrupts, voice firm as he stands from his bed, because now he understands; understands that Scott had some kind of nightmare and now he's scared, but not hurt, "It's fine, alright? It was just a nightmare."

Scott's breath hitches in the phone, and Stiles sighs as he slides his feet into his slippers and snatches the keys to his jeep from his desk, "Everything's fine, Scott. There's no way you would attack Allison; not after all the practice we did, right?"

"I guess not," Scott murmurs, but his voice is still swollen and thick from tears, and Stiles smiles patiently as he sneaks his way downstairs. His father didn't get home until twelve this morning, so Stiles is not worried about waking him, but he still doesn't want to take chances, so he moves quietly and quickly.

"It's probably just all the stress," Stiles soothes as he hops into his jeep and slides the keys into the ignition, "Getting turned into a _werewolf_ has to be a _little_ stressful, Scott."

"...Are you getting in your jeep?"

"Yes."

"...Stiles...?"

"It's fine, Scott, I'm just coming over, okay," Stiles murmurs as he pulls into the road and drives towards Scott's house, "And you know better than to try and argue."

Scott huffs out a shaky laugh, sounding much calmer than before, but Stiles doesn't hang up as he continues driving, because this is Scott and Scott is his best friend, and Stiles is meant to comfort Scott when Scott is hurt or scared. It's not until he pulls into Scott's driveway that he hangs up, grabbing his keys before exciting the jeep and climbing the tree conveniently placed by Scott's window. Scott opens it up for him, and Stiles cringes at the sight of a shirtless, pantless Scott covered in thick layers of sweat and tears.

"What the hell, Scott?" Stiles snaps, marching into the bathroom to grab a towel. He quickly wets it before bringing it back out to Scott, the alpha boy sitting on the edge of the bed, looking to be in shock or worse, and Stiles roughly pats him down with the cold towel to snap him out of it.

"I don't know..." Scott murmurs, jerking a little at Stiles' rough movements before grabbing the towel to do it himself, "I just woke up like this..."

"Must've been a hell of a nightmare," Stiles murmurs, walking around the bed and climbing in on the left side. Scott watches him for a moment before he finishes cleaning off all the sweat and tossing the towel into the hamper next to his closet. He climbs into the right side, looking uncomfortable and nervous. He and Stiles have done this before, shared beds and space and everything else, but Scott has just had a nightmare about attacking a girl he cares for, and what if he attacks Stiles, too? He couldn't ever look Stiles in the back of the _head_ again if he were to ever hurt him.

"Scott," Stiles' voice is firm, annoyed and soothing all at once, and Scott snorts before relaxing into his side of the bed and taking in Stiles' scent, a combination of strawberries and raspberries and watermelon, and a hint of mint; there's something else in his scent, too, something he never noticed before he became wolf, and it helps Scott calm down. It smells like thunderstorms and power. He's never smelled an omega with a scent quite like Stiles' before and it's soothing, because Stiles is his best friend and Stiles always looks out for him; like that time he had a bad asthma attack in middle school and some kid stole his inhaler, and Stiles made that kid _cry_ , sobbing ugly tears, with nothing but his words and a dark smile before snatching Scott's inhaler back and taking care of him when it didn't calm him down right away.

Stiles takes care of him, and if Stiles says everything is okay, then Scott will believe him.

* * *

Stiles was wrong, and everything is not okay.

Scott breaths out huffed and panting breaths; his vision is hazy and red pulls at the edges. He feels like he's having a panic attack or a he's in a pre-rut or he's shifting, and his gaze snaps left and right as he speeds through the hallways. He needs to find Allison. He needs to make sure she's okay. Because his dream wasn't a dream and the school bus is torn apart and blood is leaking out of the sides, and Allison needs to be okay.

"Scott," Stiles snaps, slapping his shoulder, and Scott's breaths stutter to a stop in surprise, "You need to calm down. If you shift in public, I will _let_ Derek smack you around, understand? Allison is fine. She is _fine_ , Scott. _Stop shifting_."

Stiles' firm and vaguely threatening voice forces Scott's breath back out, calmer and steadier, and the red recedes from his vision. He is no longer hot, and he glances at Stiles; the omega roughly jerks his head to the side, and Scott follows the movement, and there is Allison, sifting through her books and calmly making her way through the halls without a care in the world. Scott feels a sigh of relief burst from his lips, and he rushes toward her, not caring that he startles her.

"Allison," He breathes happily, and she grins back.

"Hey," She laughs a little, "You scared me a little."

"You're okay..." He murmurs, and he unconsciously checks her over for any injuries or scars or _whatever_ that would make him howl with grief and rage.

"Well, as soon as my heart starts beating again," She grins. And suddenly, her brows furrow and confusion enters her eyes. Scott follows her line of vision, brows shooting up in surprise when he sees Jackson looking over his locker in confusion; the same locker he may or may not have punched open during his panic.

"What... happened to Jackson's locker...?" Allison's voice is a mask of confusion, and when she glances at Stiles, she only sees the omega grinning, like he's holding back a laugh.

Stiles shrugs, grin morphing into a smirk.

* * *

Stiles watches the flask boil with disinterest before glancing to the side and smirking, because he and Jackson just happened to share seats in chemistry, and the alpha boy looks irritated and confused all at once, and Stiles knows the guy hasn't gotten over his locker. His eyes shift forward when Scott is suddenly twisting around, features tight with worry and confusion and a hint of fear.

"Maybe it was _my_ blood on the bus," Scott whispers, glancing around in case anyone's listening before he turns his attention back to Stiles.

"It could've been animal blood, too, Scott," Stiles murmurs, cutting his eyes toward Jackson for a brief moment before looking back at Scott. Because Stiles knows things, and he notices things that others don't, and he knows that Jackson is secretly smart, not a genius like Lydia, but smart enough to keep up with her, and Stiles knows that Jackson will attempt to put the pieces together. Because Jackson is smart and he won't believe that the asthmatic kid that could barely run two feet without having to suck on his inhaler is suddenly good enough to earn first line, and Jackson will want to know what's happening because Jackson likes to solve mysteries and he likes to help Lydia solve mysteries, too. But, Jackson is not looking at them and doesn't appear to be listening, his attention focused solely on his chemistry notes, jotting down more, and Stiles is satisfied that he and Scott can have this conversation here and now.

"And what, I caught a _rabbit_ or something?" Scott grumbles with frustration, "And did _what?_ "

"Maybe you _ate_ it," Stiles grins, voice dark, but teasing, but Scott only looks horrified at his words.

" _Raw?_ " He breathes, voice terrified.

Stiles smirks at him, and it's almost a mean smile, but not quite, "No, you stopped to _bake_ it in a little _werewolf_ oven."

Scott glowers at him, but Stiles merely continues smirking. He glances at Jackson again, and his smirk slowly fades when he sees the boy staring intently at Scott. Jackson's face is calculating and sharp, a contrast to the usual jock persona he runs around with, and when Jackson glances at Stiles, his eyes narrow and his gaze sharpens even further. Stiles holds his gaze until Jackson looks back down at his notes, the sharp, thoughtful look never fading, and Stiles hopes and _hopes_ , but he's not stupid enough to believe that Jackson didn't hear a word of that conversation.

And Stiles knows that, that's going to come back to bite them later.

And when Macy is shouting about the police finding something, and the whole class is looking out the window to see a man covered in bruises and gashes and so much blood, screaming and panicking, Stiles is quick to notice how Jackson's gaze slowly turns from the man in the bus to Scott, sharp and calculating and almost _knowing_ , and Stiles wonders how he's going to fix this problem.

* * *

Stiles ignores the glances he gets as he follows Scott through the lunch line. Because Stiles is an omega, the sheriff's son at that, and he's wearing his alpha friend's clothes. Because Stiles had panicked so much when Scott called and he didn't think to grab his own clothes, so now he's stuck wearing Scott's for the day, no time to drive back home to get his own before school, and now he's practically saturated in Scott's alpha scent. He doesn't care, though, simply shoots a grin at the two omega girls talking a little too loudly about it; they have the good sense to look embarrassed and quickly scamper away to find a table.

"Dreams aren't memories, Scott," Stiles states as they take their seat at an empty table, "Contrary to popular belief, you can't dream about a memory. Memories have no place in dreams."

"Okay, but, _Stiles_ ," Scott's voice is hushed and a little panicked, "It _happened._ I dreamed about attacking Allison on that bus - and now someone is in the _hospital_ because of it. Even the _bus_ numbers are the same. The only real difference I see is the person who was attacked."

"Then go talk to Derek," Stiles states, shrugging and grabbing his water bottle, "He's a born wolf; he should know exactly how to help you out."

Scott looks completely appalled, and a little scared, and it makes Stiles stifle a laugh, " _Derek?_ Stiles, you got him _arrested_ for _murder_ ; for _murdering_ his _sister_ , which announced him being here to the Hunters. Do you _really_ think he'll help me?"

"Yes," Stiles states immediately, as if it were fact, and Scott looks a little surprised, but he doesn't know about Derek bringing him a present - the blue wolfsbane still sitting on his dresser in the middle of his room where he can see it from _everywhere_ \- so Stiles doesn't mind. Because Scott doesn't know that Derek apologized and that he promised to not hurt Scott anymore, and Scott doesn't know that Derek told him that he'd help Scott if need be out on the lacrosse field during practice. And Scott doesn't need to know, because Stiles _liked_ those things that Derek did for him and he wants to keep them as _his_.

"Well, okay..." Scott relents, sounding as if he were dreading the already decided upcoming meeting with his fellow werewolf, "But, what if-"

"Scott," Stiles interrupts, voice firm, but drawling, "It's _fine_. Derek will help us, and we'll figure it _all_ out together."

"Figure what out?" 

The two glance over in surprise as Lydia takes a seat next to Scott, popping a single shoulder haughtily as she looks them over; but, Stiles can see her observing them closely, calculatingly, and he thinks she's attempting to figure out their game, just like Jackson, so Stiles merely smiles at her before frowning at Scott.

"Why is she here?" He whispers, not really caring that Lydia can clearly hear him and ignoring the pointed look she shoots him, and Scott shrugs, face filled with apprehension and confusion, but then they're being surrounded, a boy Stiles vaguely recognizes taking a seat at the head of the table between Stiles and Lydia, Danny sitting on one side and Pamela on the other. Then Allison shows up, and Stiles resists the urge to roll his eyes at the sappy look she and Scott give one another.

Stiles cuts his eyes to Danny, and he smirks when he catches the alpha's eyes. Danny rolls his a little, but gives Stiles a small grin before turning his attention to the others.

" _Move._ "

Stiles glances up at Jackson, the alpha boy's voice gruff and commanding and _alpha-like_. Stiles smirks in amusement when the beta sitting in _his_ seat next to _his_ girlfriend tries to resist before quickly scampering off at the pointed glare on Jackson's face. Say what you want about Jackson, but Stiles knows that he's protective of those he cares about, and he knows that the beta that tried to sit with Lydia has harassed her for dates and for her number and for _just a single night_ , and Stiles knows that Jackson won't tolerate _anyone_ that makes Lydia uncomfortable or scared or upset. Because Jackson's secretly a good guy, and Stiles knows it, so he doesn't call Jackson out for his posturing or for the mask he wears.

"So, I hear they're saying it's some type of animal attack," Danny says, and Stiles watches as Jackson's sharp eyes cut to Scott for a brief moment before settling on Stiles. Stiles allows himself to smirk a little, his mind quickly going over the pros and cons of Jackson discovering the truth, and Jackson's eyes narrow, "Maybe a cougar?"

"I heard mountain lion," Jackson shrugs, keeping his eyes on Stiles.

"A cougar is a mountain lion," Lydia mumbles, voice a weird combination of snappish and distracted. Jackson glances at her, and Stiles can see the way the alpha's lips twitch with amusement. Because Jackson is secretly smart and he's secretly nice, and he likes Lydia and he likes that she's smart, and Stiles knows that Lydia pretending to be dull-headed is a source of entertainment for Jackson.

Lydia catches her boyfriend's amused eyes, and the alpha girl glances around nervously before furrowing her brows in confusion, "Isn't it?"

Jackson snorts before turning his attention back to the rest of the table, shrugging, "Who cares? It's probably some homeless tweaker who would've died anyway."

Of course, Stiles has to prove him wrong, because that's what Stiles does, bringing up a news video, taking note of his dad in the background, that named the victim and his status. Garrison Myers, alive, but barely, resting in the hospital. They think it may have been an animal attack, but are ruling nothing out. Then Scott makes a comment about Myers being his old bus driver, and Stiles' eyes narrow; if Scott really did lose control, why would his wolf-self be attracted to his old bus driver? What would the point of that be? It makes absolutely no sense.

But, then again, Scott is forgetting one fine detail.

It could've been the Alpha.

"Can we talk about something slightly more _fun_ please," Lydia snips before snapping her attention to Allison, grinning in a way that lets Stiles know that she is most definitely in on Jackson's plan to figure Stiles and Scott out, and Stiles feels his own lips twitch in amusement, "Like where we're going tomorrow night."

Allison glances up, chewing her food, and when she sees how serious Lydia is, she swallows thickly and blinks rapidly. Stiles thinks she actually looks a bit scared, and he understands; denying Lydia anything is impossible, and Lydia knows this, too, so she merely smiles at Allison, eyes sharp and calculating in a way most others never notice, "You said you and Scott were going out tomorrow night...?"

"Um..." Allison stammers, "We were thinking of what we were gonna do...."

Stiles grins just as Lydia smirks, catching the alpha girl sharing a glance with Jackson. "Well," She says, "I am not staying at home and watching more lacrosse videos-" Jackson snorts, and Stiles' grin widens as he sees the panicked look in Scott's eyes increase- "So if we _are_ going out, we're doing something fun."

"You want to hang out?" Scott stutters, glowering at Stiles when the omega snickers, "Like, us and _them_? The four of us? You want to hang out?"

Allison must catch onto his panic, because she gives him a nervous smile, eyes flickering between him, and Lydia and Jackson, "I... I guess, it could be fun...."

"You know what else sounds fun?" Jackson grunts, flicking a fork into his hand, "Stabbing myself in the eye with this fork."

Stiles and Danny snort in unison, and Danny glances at him for a brief moment, sharing a smirk, before turning his attention back to his friends. Lydia, though, doesn't seem to find it as amusing, roughly snatching the fork from Jackson's fingers and shooting him an exasperated look.

"What about bowling?" She tries, "You _love_ to bowl."

Jackson snorts, "With _actual_ competition."

Allison's eyes narrow, and Stiles snickers once more, "How do you know we're not _actual_ competition?"

She glances at Scott, eyes briefly flickering toward Stiles when he snorts, "You can bowl, right?"

"S-...Sort of..." Scott stammers, shooting Stiles a glare, but the omega merely grins at him. _This is your mess._

"Is it, is _sort of_?" Jackson goads, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes at Scott; Scott takes it as a challenge, but Stiles can see the sharp look in Jackson's eyes as he looks Scott over, and Stiles once again goes over the pros and cons of having Lydia and Jackson in the know, and he thinks that, maybe, the pros could outweigh the cons, "Or _yes_?"

" _Yes_ ," Scott growls, and Stiles glances at Allison when the beta girl shifts uncomfortably at all the alpha hormones filling the air, and it makes him wonder, for only a split second, why he, an omega, never really reacts in such a way, "In fact, I'm a _great_ bowler."

Stiles snickers again.

* * *

"Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?" Scott asks, for the _fifthtenthtwentieth_ time, and Stiles is going to smack him if he asks once more. 

" _Yes,_ Scott," Stiles grounds out, voice a bit snappish as he guides the jeep through the terrain of the Preserve and parks it in front of the debilitated Hale house, "You told me what Deaton said; that wolves have long-term memories. And from what you told me about your nightmare and how it compared to what Deaton said about wolves and their prey, werewolves' instincts aren't so different from real wolves. So, maybe, werewolves have long-term memories, too, and, maybe, Derek can teach you how to remember."

"Yeah, but..."

"Scott," Stiles snaps, "Get out of the jeep."

Derek is already opening the door as they make their way over, and Stiles knows that he was able to hear their entire conversation. Derek watches Stiles, and Stiles watches him back, until the older alpha's attention snaps to Scott, not wasting any time.

"You think you killed the driver?" He asks, voice surprisingly soft.

Scott hesitates for a moment before Stiles smacks his shoulder, jolting him into action, "I... I had a dream about... someone... but someone else got hurt, and it turns out that part of the dream might have actually happened."

Derek raises a brow at the barely discernible sentence, and his eyes shift over to Stiles. Stiles grins at him, amused, because Scott always fumbles when he gets nervous, and it makes Stiles laugh.

"Scott," Stiles states, sparing Scott a quick glance before looking back at Derek, uncaring if Scott would prefer to keep Allison's name out of it, "Had a nightmare about losing control and attacking Allison. Today, we found out about the bus driver, and Scott says that the wreckage matches the one in his dream. Dreams aren't memories, and, even if they were, he would've been dreaming about the driver, not Allison, right?"

"Right," Derek nods, turning his attention to Scott, "You remember nothing from last night?"

Scott seems to take his tone the wrong way, and his voice becomes snappish, "Did you see what I did last night?"

Derek rolls his eyes, and Stiles snorts, "No."

"Well," Scott stammers, "Can you at least tell me the truth? Can I hurt someone?"

"Yes," Derek shrugs, like it's fact, like there's no question about it, like every newborn wolf in existence is going to lose control at least once, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

" _Am_ I gonna hurt someone?"

"Yes."

"Can I _kill_ someone?"

"Probably."

"You two," Stiles states, voice low and annoyed, and the two quickly turn their attention back to him at his tone, "Are forgetting one thing."

"What?" Derek shrugs in question, his own voice annoyed, and Stiles rolls his eyes again, because, _holy shit_ , this person he likes can _not_ be as slow as Scott; Stiles wouldn't be able to handle that, ever. He catches Derek's eyes with his own narrowed ones, shooting him a look that will let Derek know exactly how stupid he thinks that question was.

"The Alpha, dumbass," Stiles snorts, "What if it was the _Alpha_ that did this?"

The two alphas in front of him pause, and Stiles rolls his eyes once more, realizing that the thought never even crossed their minds. Honestly, today, one of his bad days where everything pisses him off, is not the day for people to be stupid around him, and Scott should realize this with how often he's been snapping at him. 

"But, then..." Scott murmurs, "If it was the Alpha, why am _I_ dreaming about it?"

"It Bit you," Stiles shrugs, "It's the one that Changed you, so maybe you're connected to it."

Stiles glances at Derek, catching the wolf's eye to confirm his statement, and Derek nods. He appears contemplative, and Stiles lets him think it over for a moment, knows that Derek is probably trying to figure out the Alpha's reasons for hunting and why Scott is sharing its memories.

"Yes," Derek states, "Alphas are connected to their Betas, and you're no exception to that. The Alpha probably dragged you out there to hunt for Pack bonding."

"Pack _bonding_?" Scott's voice is incredulous and frustrated, " _Murdering_ someone together is _Pack bonding_?"

Derek closes his eyes, and Stiles grins when he realizes that Derek is taking in deep breaths to calm himself, obviously not appreciating Scott's disgusted tone about werewolf culture. Derek's eyes open once more, cutting to Scott, and the alpha boy flinches a little; Stiles doesn't say anything, because Scott is his best friend and Stiles is supposed to take care of him, but Stiles also knows that Scott needs to learn that there is a time and place for white knighting, and now is not one of them.

"Alphas tend to take their Pack out hunting," Derek states before rolling his eyes and glancing at Scott, voice a bit sarcastic before sobering up once more, "For _animals._ It's usually done for those who are new to shifting. Not only does it help them bond with their Alpha, but it also helps to teach them control. The Alpha we're dealing with is most likely feral, so hunting humans is something it really wouldn't have a problem with."

"Okay..." Stiles murmurs thoughtfully, "So maybe Scott was there because the Alpha drew him there for _'Pack bonding'_."

He says the words in a blatantly mocking tone, smirking. Derek rolls his eyes at him, and Stiles' smirk morphs in a grin. The two glance over at Scott, and Stiles' grin melts into a worried frown, because Scott looks sick. Stiles would like to help him, but he doesn't know how; how is he supposed to help his friend move on from the fact that he may or may not have killed someone? Stiles knew this would happen, he knew it, knew that Scott would get himself sick from guilt and shame.

Derek must catch onto his worry, because he looks from Stiles to Scott and sighs. He steps closer to Scott, making sure the younger alpha catches his eye before speaking.

"Look," He states, "I can show you how to remember. I can show you how to control your instincts, your shift, even on a full moon. But, it's not going to come for free."

Scott glances up at him, brows furrowed in worry, "What do you want?"

His voice sounds so defeated, and Stiles cringes because this tone of voice means that he hasn't been doing a good job of taking care of Scott. They've practiced with the baseballs more, and it seemed to be working because he hasn't shifted yet, but Stiles knows it's only a temporary reprieve. Because Scott _has_ attempted to shift during their practice, he just manages to catch himself, and Stiles knows that doesn't mean he has control, it just means he isn't going to kill Stiles or somebody else anytime soon. But, later, though....

"You'll find out," Derek murmurs quietly before speaking up, voice firm, "But, for now, what you need to do is go back to the bus. Go inside. See it, feel it. Let your senses, your sight, your smell, touch; let them remember for you."

"That's it...?" Scott mutters, voice still a bit glum, looking up at Derek earnestly, "Just... go back...?"

Derek raises his eyebrows, almost mockingly, but not quite, "Do you want to know what happened?"

"I just want to know if I hurt him..." Scott mumbles.

Derek snorts, "No. You want to know if you'll hurt _her._ "

Scott purses his lips, glowering at Derek, though it is halfhearted at best and a bit distracted, before he sighs and hops off the porch. Stiles watches as he makes his way back to the jeep before he walks closer to Derek, stopping next to him.

He shoots Derek a smirks, "So, why wolfsbane?"

Derek stares at him for a long moment before his lips twitch, just a little, and he glances away before he speaks, "Wolfsbane is pretty to look at."

Stiles raises his brows, and Derek glances back at him pointedly, "But it can also kill me."

Stiles' smirk morphs into a grin, and he even laughs lightly for a small moment. He glances at Derek before holding up a hand, and Derek rolls his eyes but takes it anyway, holding on firmly as assists Stiles as the omega hops off of the porch. Stiles looks back at him as he makes his way to the jeep before looking forward, shaking his head in amusement. Derek, it seems, learned more than just his lesson after Stiles got him arrested.

At least Derek is smart.

* * *

"So," Stiles asks, "Did you remember?"

Scott wonders how it is that his friend can be so calm. He's still a little high on adrenaline, not only from the memory, but from nearly getting caught, but Stiles looks completely unphased, practically serene as he speeds down the road way over the speed limit.

"Yeah," Scott breaths, "Yeah, I was... I was there last night."

"And?" Stiles demands, "Did you kill him?"

"No, the blood," Scott mumbles, furrowing his brows as he goes over the memory, the scent of the blood hitting his nose heavily, "Some of it was mine."

Stiles' brows raise a bit before they lower, and he nods as if he expected the answer, "So, the Alpha _did_ attack last night."

"Yeah, I think... I think I was actually trying to _protect_ him from the Alpha," Scott says.

"If it drew you there, then it's obvious that Alphas can force compliance," Stiles states, "Kind of like human alphas using their pheromones to control the other genders."

"But... that's been illegal for so long, I think a lot of people actually forgot how to do it."

Stiles shoots him a look, "And? We're talking about _werewolves_ , Scott, not humans. But, look, if you have enough control to break away from the Alpha, and even try and fight him off, then you can probably go out with Allison tonight."

Scott grins happily, but Stiles isn't finished, "But, listen to me, Scott, if I call you, you _pick up_. Do _not_ ignore me with all this _shit_ going on, understand."

Scott nods immediately, a seriousness in his eyes that assures Stiles that Scott will try and pick up as quickly as possible, as soon as he notices his phone. Stiles nods in satisfaction before stopping the jeep and allowing Scott to rush home to get ready for Allison. As he pulls out of the McCalls' yard, he begins thinking. He wants to know as much as he can about werewolves, and Derek seems to be more inclined to tell Stiles than Scott, and Stiles thinks it might be because Stiles is more likely to listen. As much as Stiles loves Scott, he knows the alpha boy has a bit of a hard head and only listens when things get a bit hectic. When it comes to Stiles, though, he always listens, without question, so Stiles believes that learning from Derek will be for the best, because Scott always listens to him and he'll take into account what Stiles has to say about werewolves and control. So, he immediately makes a U-turn, making his way back to the Preserve.

To his surprise, Derek already seemed to have plans of his own. The alpha was in the process of getting into his Camaro just as Stiles pulled up, though it seems, with his hearing, he knew Stiles was coming and paused for him. Stiles quirks a brow before turning off the ignition, jeep going dark. He removes himself from his car before making his way toward Derek. 

The alpha lifts his brows, "What?"

Stiles shrugs, hands in his jacket pockets, "Just wanted to talk some more. I figured Scott's more inclined to listen if it comes from me."

"Fair enough," Derek states, opening the door to the driver side of his Camaro. He glances at Stiles, lifting a brow at the omega, and Stiles grins at the blatant invitation, making his way around the car and settling into the passenger seat.

Derek starts the Camaro, making his way out of the Preserve.

"So," Stiles states, "Where are we going?"

"I need gas," Derek murmurs, "I've been putting it off all day to avoid the Hunters - thanks for that, by the way."

Stiles smirks, "At least you learned your lesson."

"Don't mess with your friends?" Derek lifts his brows mockingly, "Yeah, I think I got it."

"Hey," Stiles shrugs, chuckling a little, "It's your own fault. Learn to hold in that aggression a little, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah," Derek grumbles, rolling his eyes a little, and Stiles looks forward to see they have already made it out of the Preserve and onto the highway, "So, did Scott find out if he was the one to attack the driver?"

"Yeah, it wasn't him," Stiles shrugs again, "It was the Alpha. Which reminds me, the Alpha drew him there and it made me wonder, can Alphas force compliance in their Pack?"

Derek purses his lips, clearly uncomfortable with such a notion, "They can. But, it usually ends badly; forcing compliance usually indicates that the Pack is unstable, that the Alpha is incapable of leading, and it either draws in other Packs to fight for a claim over the territory, or some of the Pack members attempt to kill the Alpha to solve the problem."

"So..." Stiles murmurs, "There's politics involved, then? Is it anything like human politics?"

"Sort of," Derek's brows furrows as he thinks the question over, "In the sense that appearances need to be kept; don't undermine your Alpha in front of other Packs, show that you are well bonded with one another, and show that you have plenty of control over your shift. If any weakness is shown, then rival Packs have a right to challenge another's claim."

"Mm," Stiles nods, his own brows furrowing as he thinks over more questions, "What about... Pack hierarchy? That's got to be a thing, right?"

"Yeah," Derek states, blinking a little, and Stiles stifles a snort, "The head of the Pack is obviously the Alpha; they're meant to act as protectors and leaders, and, during political disputes, the negotiators. There's the Second, and their authority is only overruled by the Alpha, and even then, they're usually only meant to act during emergencies. The Third is in a similar position, just a rank lower. Then there's the Enforcer."

"Enforcer?" Stiles' brows raise, attention caught on the word.

"Yeah," Derek murmurs, "I mean, the honorable thing won't always work. You know, treaties, pacts, promises; they can be made, but they can also be broken. It's the Enforcer's job to do the dirty work should that ever happen; tie up loose ends, so to speak."

"Get rid of threats before they have a chance to actually become threats," Stiles mumbles, and Derek nods.

"Exactly. The Enforcer tends to be the strongest in the Pack," Derek states, looking thoughtful, "Maybe even stronger than the Alpha, depending on how you look at it. They also have to be loyal, because someone that strong could attempt to usurp power, but, um... that usually only happens if the Enforcer feels that the Alpha is making too much of a mess of things; you know, letting too many threats into their territory."

"Is that it?" Stiles wonders.

"Yeah, I mean," Derek shrugs, "Everyone else, they're just Betas; they follow the Second and Third's authority, they follow the Alpha's authority, and they're also meant to do as the Enforcer says if there's any problems that need to be dealt with."

"Okay..." Stiles glances back at the road, tilting his head when he realizes he's not quite sure where they are, surrounded by trees and road and nothing else but a gas station off to the side, before he glances back at Derek, "Derek."

"Hm?" Derek grunts, pulling the car into the station, parking next to one of the many empty pumps.

"Your sister," Stiles states, ignoring Derek's tensing, uncaring, "She could turn into a wolf; I mean, it was an impossibly huge wolf, granted, but it was still a wolf. Can all werewolves do that?"

Derek is silent for a long moment, and Stiles allows him to think it over. He understands; Derek is sore about his sister, probably his whole family, in the same way Stiles is sore about his mother. Stiles remembers, once, after she was gone and someone mentioned her, he had the police called on him for hurting that person. He put them in the hospital, he thinks, and then his dad got drunk again that night. Stiles thinks he might have disappointed him, but he also thinks his dad was more sad than anything.

"No..." Derek murmurs, gripping the steering wheel tightly, and Stiles wonders if Derek might accidentally break it, "No, it's rare. My mother could do it. My sister, too, obviously. But, um, no one else in the family could."

"Not even you?" Stiles asks softly, and Derek purses his lips thoughtfully for a moment before sighing through his nose, grip relaxing on the steering wheel.

"I was told..." Derek mumbles, "That I had the potential for it, but, um..."

"The fire happened," Stiles whispers, and Derek nods. Stiles gets it. Derek began learning how to shift into a wolf when the fire happened, and he stopped practicing afterwards. Because his mother was gone, his whole family was gone, and they were gone forever, and no one else deserved to teach him how.

"When my mother died..." Stiles murmurs, and Derek glances at him quickly in surprise, "Actually, even before she died. When she got sick, I stopped playing my guitar. She's the one who taught me, and I... no one else deserved to take her place as my teacher."

Derek nods, brows furrowed in a way that made him seem angry, but Stiles knows better. Stiles grins at him a little, and Derek huffs, but Stiles knows that the alpha is actually more amused at his sudden shift in expression than annoyed, and Derek removes himself from the Camaro. Stiles waits patiently as Derek fills the gas tank, but then he shifts in confusion when two vans pull into the lot, one in front of them and one behind them. Stiles twists around in his seat, watching as two men flank the car in the back; one of them catches his eye and smirk tauntingly, and Stiles snorts because it just looks ridiculous on the man's baby face, and he smirks back. The man is obviously taken aback at that and glares at him, but Stiles just rolls his eyes and turns back around in his seat, watching as Chris Argent steps out of his vehicle.

Stiles catches Derek's eye, the omega's whiskey eyes alight with curiosity, but Derek just shakes his head and removes the pump, placing it back on its stand. Chris glances at Stiles, furrowing his brows at the sight of him, clearly not expecting him to be there, and Stiles grins and waves at him.

Chris glances up at Derek, "Does the sheriff happen to know you're with his son?"

Stiles rolls his eyes, waving his finger at Chris in a very rude, very clear gesture, and the beta man snorts. Stiles grins, because he notices things, and he notices that Chris' eyes are more amused than anything else. Derek shrugs at the question, removing his wallet from his pocket and fishing for his credit card.

"Probably not," He states flippantly, sliding the card into the scanner.

"Hm," Chris grunts, "He probably wouldn't like it very much. I mean, I don't know about the sheriff, but, me personally, I'm quite protective of the things I love."

There's a long pause, and Stiles glances back and forth between Chris and Derek, and he wants to laugh, because could these two be anymore cliché with the stare-down, and the threatening and insulting innuendos? Stiles can't help it; he snorts a little, and they must hear him, because they glance at him, all of them, but he merely smirks at them. He won't say a word; this is between werewolves and Hunters, and Stiles, the lowly human that he is, knows that he has no place in it.

Chris glances back up at Derek, eyes narrowing, "You don't have a lot of that these days, though, do you?"

Derek's lips twitch, but he calmly removes his card and punches in the proper numbers. When his receipt prints, he snatches and stuffs in his wallet to be forgotten. He looks back up at Chris, hands folded over his wallet, eyes challenging.

"No," Derek shakes his head once, voice firm, "Not a lot. Have you ever thought about why?"

Chris' eyes narrow further, "You think it was Hunters, Derek? The fire was ruled accidental, was it not?"

Derek snorts disdainfully, and Stiles understands, because how would werewolves be killed in a regular fire, and he glowers at Chris, "We were a family of _werewolves._ Don't you think it would've been _easy_ for us to get out of an _accidental_ fire? Not unless we were trapped. By wolfsbane, maybe. Or mountain ash. Maybe even mistletoe; Laura did get sick for awhile after. Maybe even all three, take your pick."

Chris' head tilts, and Stiles sees that the man is actually contemplative rather than annoyed, and Stiles wonders if, maybe, Chris Argent is a fair Hunter after all, "I'd need proof for that, which you don't have, so there's nothing that can be done for now. But, if you get it, Derek."

Chris gives him a meaningful look, and, after a short pause, Derek nods. Stiles glances back over at the two Hunters behind the Camaro, rolling his eyes when he sees the disdain in theirs; annoyed that their leader is actually taking the words of an animal into account.

"Clearly, you're not the Alpha," Chris states, voice firm and vaguely threatening, "But, you must know that if you're involved in it's Pack, I'll have to put you down."

Derek snorts again, "You _know_ I'm not. You're just picking fights."

"I also know that Alphas can force compliance," Chris retorts, sparing Stiles a glance, "Wouldn't want anything to happen to the jailbait omega, would you?"

Stiles bursts out laughing, Chris' eyes lighting in amusement at the sound, and Chris grins like a shark when Stiles flips him off a second time. Stiles thinks he might actually like Chris; the man is funny, even if he is threatening Derek. Derek rolls his eyes, stuffing his wallet in his jacket pocket jerkily before walking around his Camaro and retaking his seat. Stiles laughs again when Derek starts his car, reversing so fast he forces the two Hunters behind them to jump out of the way or die, and Stiles' laughter dies down into giggles as Derek takes his place on the road, speeding.

"It's really not that funny," Derek grumbles.

"It really is," Stiles snickers, "Jailbait omega..."

"Should that not be insulting to you?"

"No, why? It implies that I'm attractive, so..."

Derek rolls his eyes, and Stiles snickers again before sobering up a little. He glances at Derek, rolling his eyes a little at Derek's irritated eyes, before speaking, "Hey."

Derek is silent for a moment before he rolls his own eyes once more, mocking, "Hey."

Stiles snorts a little, "So, Chris Argent didn't seem all that bad."

Derek sighs reluctantly, "No... he's not. He's a fair Hunter, even if he's not a big fan of werewolves. I've seen him personally put down Codebreakers himself. You know, he doesn't... he doesn't tolerate Codebreaking. Doesn't believe in harming innocent supernaturals."

"Okay," Stiles nods, "That's good, then."

Derek grunts, and it makes Stiles snort out a laugh, even if he doesn't know why.

"I need to call Scott," Stiles states, fishing for his phone, "It's probably better if he knows about Chris."

"Probably," Derek mutters.

* * *

Lydia smiles when she makes another strike, catching Jackson's eye and grinning at his smirk. She loves it when they do this, when they stop hiding, however briefly, and decimate all their opponents together. She and Jackson have been hitting strike after strike, and, while Allison is able to get strikes, it's not often, and Scott is a terrible bowler.

Which makes him a liar. Then again, Jackson was goading him on, so Lydia's not really surprised. She understands; she has alpha hormones of her own to deal with, and, sometimes, she and Jackson go at it like cats and dogs because two alphas clashing is a bad thing. But, it's okay, because they know how to work through it just fine.

"You're up, _McCall_ ," Jackson drawls, and Scott hangs his head in dread. It makes Lydia snicker a little, and she knows Jackson heard it because he brushes his hand over her back, the gesture amused, she can feel, and it makes her grin widen.

She watches as Scott attempts to find proper form, lips twitching in amusement when Allison gets up to go help him. She doesn't know what Allison is saying to him, but it must be good by the way Scott's neck begins to flush. That's when Scott's phone begins vibrating, sliding across the table.

Lydia glances at Scott, seeing that he's far too immersed in whatever Allison is saying to him to notice his phone; then again, he's too far away to hear it, anyway.

"Hey," Jackson whispers, and Lydia glances at him, brows raised in question, "Answer it."

"Jackson," Lydia warns, but Jackson cuts her off.

"Look, this might be a way to figure them out," He states, "We've gotten _nowhere_ tonight."

Lydia rolls her eyes, snatching up the phone and flipping it open, placing it to her ear. Before she can say anything, though, the voice on the other side, Stiles, begins speaking.

"So," He states casually and quickly, "You saw right, Chris Argent is a Hunter. But, it's cool; Derek says he's fair, so the only thing you really have to worry about is him being a protective dad. Then again, I'm not too sure how he'd feel about his daughter being with a wolf, fair or not. Also, I was right, the Alpha can force compliance. You need to be careful, Scott, you're in it's Pack because of the Bite; it'll come after you-"

Suddenly, the phone is snatched from her, but Lydia barely notices, her fingers slack. Her brows are furrowed in confusion, and she watches as Scott quickly takes over the conversation. She glances at Jackson, the look in her eyes conveying the confusion and unsettlement she's feeling, and Jackson's own brows furrow in worry.

Hunters? Wolves? Alphas? Packs? Bites?

Derek? As in Derek Hale?

She turns her attention back to Scott, catching his words.

"Stiles?" Scott's voice sounds a little panicked, probably wondering what all that Lydia heard, "Lydia answered my phone."

"It... it wouldn't stop ringing..." She mumbles weakly, and Jackson places a comforting hand on her lower back.

"Yeah, uh..." Scott says, "I get it, um... okay. I understand, Stiles. Yeah, just... meet me at my place after I drop off Allison. We'll talk then, alright?"

Scott hangs up, shooting Lydia a nervous grin, "Yeah, uh... he's really into online gaming, so... sorry if he said anything weird."

Lydia narrows her eyes at him before catching Jackson's own.

Scott is a bad liar.

* * *

Stiles snickers a little when Melissa finally leaves the room, clearly high on adrenaline and freaked out at Stiles' sudden entrance. He knows she doesn't care, though, knows that she likes Stiles and his antics, even if it freaks her out from time to time.

"Stiles," Scott states, taking a seat on his desk chair, "What is it?"

"Alright, you know I was with Derek today, right?" Stiles states, and Scott nods in confirmation, though he clearly looks a little uncomfortable at the notion, "Well, he went to the hospital before he dropped me off by my jeep. To talk to the driver. See if he knew anything."

"And...?"

"He died," Stiles states bluntly, and Scott blinks rapidly at the suddenly statement, "He succumbed to his wounds, is what is being said."

"But..." Scott stammers, protesting weakly, "He was fine. He had been doing fine. He was getting better-"

"Scott," Stiles sighs, "Sometimes, it may look that way, but, in reality, they're getting worse."

He would know; he's experienced it before.

"But," Scott protests again, "No! He was doing fine before Derek went to talk to him! How do you know Derek didn't do this?"

"Scott-"

"No, Stiles!" Scott snaps, "He was fine before Derek! Don't you think that's a _little_ suspicious?"

Stiles rolls his eyes, sighing in annoyance, "Do you want to go see Derek?"

Scott nods firmly, and Stiles rolls his eyes again.

* * *

Stiles wonders how many times he'll roll his eyes today, doing it once more as Scott storms out of the jeep and into the old Hale house. Stiles sighs through his nose in irritation, turning his ignition off before following Scott inside. Stiles stays close to the door, because he's smart and he knows that Scott is probably going to goad on Derek a bit too much, because he knows Scott because Scott is his best friend, and he knows that Scott can be a bit petty when he's upset.

"Derek!" Scott shouts, and at least he has the common sense to tread with caution as he slowly maneuvers his way up the stairs, "I know what you did!"

" _I_ didn't do anything," Derek's voice is firm and deep, and he makes it echo so that it seems to come from all around them. He sounds irritated, a bit upset, too.

"You killed him!"

"He _died_."

"Like your sister died?" Scott snaps, and Stiles lets his head fall back against the wall by the door in exasperation, because of course Scott would go there. Stiles knew he would, because he knows Scott, knows how petty and a bit ignorant Scott can be.

"My sister was _missing_ ," Derek's voice is a bit gruffer, and Stiles knows that Scott's comment struck a nerve, "I came here _looking_ for her."

"You found her," Scott mutters.

"I found her in _pieces_!" Derek finally snaps, and Stiles can hear the pain behind the anger, and he wonders if Scott can, as well, noticing the alpha boy's movements pause for a moment, "Being used as bait to catch me!"

"I think you killed them both."

"Scott-"

"No, Stiles," Scott interrupts, "And I'm gonna tell everyone. Starting with the sheriff."

Stiles would undermine him; Scott must know that, but Scott doesn't seem to care at the moment. The bus driver is dead, and Scott is upset and angry, and now he's taking it out on Derek. Stiles watches as Derek storms from his hiding spot, swiftly throwing Scott down the stairs. Stiles moves to go help him, because this is Scott and even if Scott is being a bit irrational, Stiles doesn't want him hurt. Scott stops him, though, his head snapping up to look at Stiles, and Stiles sees that the wolf has taken over, Scott's eyes glowing and teeth elongated, and the alpha growls at him in warning. When Stiles takes a step back, Scott turns his attention back to Derek, growling out a challenge.

Derek snorts before hopping down the stairs and landing on his feet with all the grace of a cat, but before he can do anything, Scott tosses him right through the wall. Stiles' brows lift in bemusement, not expecting Scott to get one up on Derek like that. He waits until Scott climbs through the hole, following Derek, before finding a position next to the hole himself, peeking through.

He watches in fascination as Derek shifts, eyes a bright, electric blue, and he wonders why Derek told him Betas can only have gold eyes. Because those blue eyes are beautiful and enchanting, and he wants to see more of them. Derek cracks his neck briefly before locking eyes with Scott.

Derek roars.

Suddenly, the fight begins, and Stiles knows that Scott has no chance. Derek is wild and graceful and beautiful and all wolf, and Scott is just a pup compared to him, no experience, no training. Not once does Scott gain the upper hand in the fight, and he even resorts to using a weapon. Derek doesn't even flinch, and Stiles winces a little in sympathy when Derek grabs Scott by the neck and slams him into the ground a few times. It was clearly an attempt to daze the younger alpha-Beta in submission, but Scott doesn't stop fighting, and Stiles can tell that Derek is getting annoyed. 

He's proven right when Derek claws Scott right across the chest.

"Scott!" Stiles calls out, because this is Scott, Scott his best friend, Scott the only one he doesn't have to hide for, and Stiles doesn't want him hurt even if he _does_ deserved to be punched a little, and Stiles quickly rushes into the room, ignoring the warning growls both wolves release.

Stiles doesn't need to worry, though, because he notices the wound is already healed by the time he gets there. He helps Scott take a seat in the ragged chair, glancing at Derek as he watches the man shift back, and Stiles wonders why he misses the blue eyes already, because Derek's brown, green, hazel eyes are just as nice.

"I didn't kill him," Derek grounds out, panting a little, "It's not your fault and it's not mine. You _know_ that, you're just picking a fight because you're mad he died."

Scott snorts in frustration, but he lowers his head in submission anyway, "What do we _do_? We can't just let this thing run around like it is."

"No," Derek states, "We can't. Look, my sister came here looking for it. And now she's _dead._ This thing is strong, and there's no way I can find it, or get rid of it, for that matter, on my own."

"You want _me_ to help you find it?" Scott asks.

"You _did_ make a deal," Stiles shrugs, "He helps you remember the attack on the bus driver, and you help him. Right?"

"Right," Derek states before catching Scott's eye, "Look. I can teach you about being a wolf, but I want you to help me in return."

"Why me...?" Scott mumbles helplessly, and Stiles rubs his shoulder in comfort. He wants Scott to get help, wants him to learn how to be a proper werewolf, but he doesn't want him hurt and he doesn't want him scared, either. Stiles will maim Derek if either of those things happen, and he sends Derek a poisonous look that Derek must understand, because the alpha wolf nods at him knowingly.

"It Bit you, Scott," Derek states, "We've talked about this. It means you're in its Pack, and it trying to make you hunt with it is proof enough that it wants you. It wants you in its Pack and it wants you to help it kill."

Scott looks down at his hands numbly and Stiles, looking a bit unsure, wraps his arms around his alpha friend's neck from behind, knowing his scent comforts Scott.

He tries to ignore the low growl that resounds from outside.


	5. Magic Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's been injured by hunters, and now Scott has to find a magic bullet; too bad Scott's slow as shit, and now Stiles has to drag Allison and Chris into the mix. And leave it to Jackson to work things out in the most absurd way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if there's a lot of Sterek in this chapter... Most of it involves Allison and Peter, so... There is development, though.

Werewolves have two sides to themselves; human and animal. These two sides are not different beings, not two separate consciousnesses living in one body, but simply two sides of the same coin. The wolf is meant to be one's instincts; humans, they rely on logic and reasoning, while animals rely on instincts, their will to survive. Humans, seventy percent logic and thirty percent instinct. Werewolves, half animal, half human, would ideally have fifty percent logic and fifty percent instinct. They are meant to co-exist with their wolf, share an almost symbiotic relationship. Attempting to push the wolf down will only agitate it, causing it to react to aggression in a rather undesirable manner; the human will eventually lose control and the wolf will become the dominant side; seventy percent instinct, thirty percent logic.

This is Scott's problem. Pack bonds and support will only do so much, and, while his wolf sees Stiles as Pack, Scott tries much too hard to shove the wolf into the back of his mind and pretend he is still human. This causes the wolf to become far too aggressive, angry and trapped, which results in Scott losing control of his shift and attacking anyone his wolf might consider prey, even friends and family. It is for this reason that Derek decided to take Scott on a run; to teach Scott how to properly rely on his wolf, to share a headspace with it, allow the wolf's instincts to guide him.

Scott pants as he runs after Derek, the older alpha-Beta quick and graceful and _wolf-like_ , jumping buildings and cars and fences without a pause in his step. They have been running for nearly two hours now, and Scott already felt a shift within him. He listens to the wolf within him, allowing it to guide him, showing him which way would be quickest, which way would be the better jump, which way would allow him to catch up with Derek, maybe even outrun him. He follows Derek through an alley, follows his jump up the building, follows him as he hops from rooftop to rooftop. 

They even jump an entire street, Derek never pausing in his run as he jumps straight across the road, landing on a metal staircase of an apartment complex on the other side. Scott follows his lead, not as quick, not as agile, but still managing to make the jump. He follows Derek as the older wolf climbs to the roof before hopping down, landing on the ground on the other side of the building. 

When Derek pauses, so does Scott.

"What?" Scott asks, breathing heavily.

"Do you smell that?" Derek murmurs, glancing around, seeking out the source of whatever strange thing he is smelling. Scott stills for a moment, trying to smell whatever it is Derek is smelling. His senses might not be up to par like Derek's, but that doesn't mean they're not there, that he can't control them to some extent.

When he finds what he's looking for, he glances back at Derek in surprise, "Blood?"

"Wolf blood..." Derek mutters before he glances around. He stops once he looks up, and Scott follows his line of sight, starting when he sees the large, wolf-like beast climbing over a building. The beast glances down, growling at them lowly before it runs out of sight.

"Stay here," Derek demands, standing. He glances at Scott, rolling his eyes when he sees the younger alpha looking at him with giant puppy eyes, upset at his dismissal, "You are not ready to face off against an _Alpha_ , especially not an Alpha like this."

Scott sighs heavily through his nose, but he nods, and Derek takes off, hopping over the ledge and following the Alpha's path. Scott watches diligently as Derek makes it to a building, easily scaling it. He hops back in surprise at the sound of a gunshot, gaping as Derek goes down, disappearing behind the building he attempted to hop. Scott glances over at the sound of a car, and he quickly escapes to a hiding spot. He catches sight of a woman, the shooter from the looks of the gun strapped to her back, walking toward the car.

Chris Argent steps out of the car, looking angry and irritated, like the last thing he wants is to be here. He grabs the woman's arm roughly, grunting, "Get in."

"What?" The woman laughs, jerking her arm out of his hold just as roughly as it was grabbed, and Scott doesn't know why, but he finds the sound almost unsettling, "No hello? Nice to see you?"

Chris throws her a loathing look, grinding out, "All I've got. Is "please put the _assault rifle_ away before someone sees you"."

The woman smirks, "There's the brother I love."

Scott presses his lips together nervously. If this is Chris' sister, then he knows he'll have to deal with her sooner or later on account of Allison. Scott doesn't want to be near her, though. There's something off about her, something Scott doesn't want to be a part of. Chris must notice it, too, though, because he doesn't look at his sister the way a brother should; annoyed, but still loving. He looks like the last thing he wants is for her to be there with him, to be anywhere near her, but he has to anyway.

"There were two of them," The woman states.

"The Alpha?" Chris demands.

"I don't know," The woman shrugs flippantly, and Scott can see Chris' teeth grind together, "One of them tried to kill me, though."

"And you just _shot_ one of them without making sure it was the one to attack you?" Chris asks, voice low, "You can't just do that, Kate. You _know_ better."

Kate laughs, a scoffing sound escaping her, like she can't believe her brother would defend those _dogs_ , "Well, I can't help it; self-defense."

Chris scoffs back, "Self-defense, my ass. I bet it ran off when it failed to kill you and you chased after it. That's not self-defense, Kate, and if you shot an innocent wolf, whatever Pack it may be in has the right to take us out. This is why I didn't want your help, Kate. You always do this; put _my_ family in danger."

"Chris, _please_ ," Kate laughs, as if Chris' worry for his family meant absolutely nothing, like it shouldn't matter, "Why do you even-"

"How _long_?" Chris interrupts, voice demanding.

Kate smiles, "I give him 48 hours. If that."

Chris glares, and Scott steps back in worry, wondering how she managed to poison a werewolf if Derek only has forty-eight hours left.

"Get in the goddamn car," Chris orders, voice like ice, and Scott can see that Kate actually looks somewhat nervous, and he wonders if this means that Chris is the stronger of the two. If so, then he supposes it's good that Chris is so adamant about not killing innocent supernatural creatures; Scott would much rather have him on their side than that woman. Scott waits until the two are in the car and driving off before scaling the same building as Derek, hopping onto the other side.

He pauses, glancing around.

Derek is gone.

* * *

"So," Scott winces at the dangerous tone of Stiles' voice, knowing that his friend is rather upset, and an upset Stiles is a volatile Stiles and a volatile Stiles is a frightening Stiles, "Derek is missing."

"I... don't know," Scott sighs, glancing around the classroom for any listeners, watching as the teacher passes the class' graded tests around.

"And he's hurt."

"I don't know. I think so."

"And, according to Miss _Kate_ , he's only got forty-eight hours."

"I-"

"Stop saying you don't know!"

Scott winces again, shooting the students that turned around to observe the outburst an apologetic look. He twists around in his seat, meeting Stiles' irritated eyes, and he sees a small, small hint of fear in them, and he understands that his friend was more worried than annoyed. 

"Look," Scott states, "Maybe we can go find him."

"And _where **exactly**_ would we look?" Stiles asks, voice low and mildly threatening.

"What about-"

"Not the Hale house," Stiles snaps, "You think he's going to go there, the place every Hunter probably knows about, while he's hurt?"

"Right," Scott sighs, voice wary, "That makes sense... I mean, I don't know, Stiles. I'm supposed to meet with Allison today to study. Maybe I can learn something if her aunt is there."

"Yeah, maybe," Stiles grumbles, turning his attention to the teacher, too annoyed and worried to be pleased with his one-hundred.

* * *

Derek grunts when another student rams into him, and he resists the urge to snap at the kid, because this is the fifth time he's been shoved aside, and how self-centered can you be to not notice the man standing right in front of you? He takes in a deep breath through his nose, trying to ignore the pain and sickness his wound causes him. He pauses, catching the faint, barely-there scent of Stiles and he quickly follows it, stopping directly in front of a student putting his books away.

"Where's Stiles?" He asks, voice gruff with his hurt.

The boy pauses, glancing at him as he shuts his locker. 

"Why should I tell you?" He asks, eyebrows raised.

"Because I asked you nicely," Derek snaps, "And I only do that once."

"Heh," The kid snorts, looking entirely unimpressed with his attempt to intimidate, "Okay, tough guy. How about I help you find him if you tell me what's going on. You know, at first, I thought it was drugs, but that doesn't really make sense, though. Because drugs would make his asthma worse, right? It wouldn't give him lacrosse super powers. And you know what else? McCall's super powers began with these 'animal attacks'. You know, Lydia told me what she heard Stilinski say over the phone. Hunters. Bites. Wolves. Wanna tell me what that's about?"

Derek blinks, in too much pain to fully comprehend what was said to him, but understanding that this kid knows far too much. And he doesn't know what to do about it, coming up with a blank in how to throw the kid off his trail.

"Are you a werewolf?" The kid suddenly blurts, "Because, as sad as it is, that's really the only explanation I can come up with. I mean, c'mon. Bites. Packs. Wolves. Animal attacks. It fits if you don't try to put too much logic behind it."

Derek freezes, staring at the kid, and the kid glances around as if he's wondering if Derek is contemplating killing him. Which, frankly, Derek sort of is; this kid is too smart for his own good, and he really should not be involved in everything. Then again, by that logic, neither should Stiles.

And then Derek stops thinking, falling on the ground in a heap.

Jackson glances around before turning his attention back to the man in front of him, Derek Hale, not really expecting the guy to practically faint.

"Ah, man," He sighs, "Try not to get blood on me."

* * *

Stiles sighs through his nose, forehead resting against his steering wheel. He's worried, and he knows he's worried because he's felt this before, for Scott and his dad and sometimes Melissa, and his mother, too, so much worry for his mother. He has no idea where Derek would go after being injured; he only knows the wolf wouldn't go back to the Hale home when he's too hurt to defend himself. He wonders what kind of bullet could possibly poison a wolf, poison them so badly that they'd only have forty-eight hours to live. He sighs again, quickly and sharply, an irritable snort escaping him as he leans back and starts his jeep, pulling out of his parking space. 

He doesn't go any further, though, slamming on the breaks before he can run over Jackson.

Stiles furrows his brows, blinking rapidly. He ignores the sound of honking, slipping out of his jeep quickly, running over to Jackson and the limp form of Derek in Jackson's arms.

"What the hell?" He snaps, kneeling beside Derek and taking in his pale, too pale face.

"Don't ask _me_ ," Jackson snaps back, "He came into the school like this; he was looking for _you_."

"Derek!"

Stiles and Jackson turn their attention over to Scott as the boy sprints toward them, sliding along the ground when he gets close enough, "Is it the bullet?"

"Bullet?" Jackson mutters, "What, like a silver bullet?"

Derek rolls his eyes, but Stiles and Scott quickly snap their attention over to Jackson. Stiles couldn't say he was surprised; he saw this coming from the moment Jackson overheard their conversation about the bus driver in chemistry. Stiles knows Jackson is smart, and he knows that Jackson would've figured it out sooner or later. Stiles supposes this is a good time; otherwise, Derek might not have made it.

Stiles' lips twitch a little, somewhat amused despite the situation, "You know then?"

Jackson shrugs, "McCall's not exactly the best at hiding it."

Derek rolls his eyes again, muttering under his breath irritably, and Stiles snorts, "Of course he's not."

Derek suddenly grunts and flinches, eyes flashing a bright, electric blue. Jackson and Scott start at the sight; Jackson, unused to wolves, and Scott, afraid Derek will get caught. Stiles furrows his brows, clutching Derek's shoulder tightly, hoping the hard hold will ground him somewhat.

"Derek," Scott hisses, "What are you doing? People will see; stop that."

"I _can't_ ," Derek growls back, blinking rapidly, trying to regain control over his animal side.

"Is it the bullet?" Scott asks.

"Yes," Derek grunts, squeezing his eyes shut, "It was a different kind of bullet."

"Is that what she meant when she said you have forty-eight hours?" Scott asks, tone worried.

"What?" Derek stammers, sounding out of breath, "What? Who said that?"

"The woman who shot you..." Scott mumbles slowly, realizing that Derek has no idea who and what hurt him aside from the fact that they were hunters, "Kate."

Derek's eyes suddenly snap open, making Scott flinch back at the rage within the glowing blue eyes, and Stiles and Jackson furrow their brows, as well. Jackson suddenly hisses about being seen, and he and Scott quickly grab hold of Derek and drag the older alpha to Stiles' jeep. While Stiles hops into the driver's seat, Jackson hops into the back after situating Derek in the passenger seat; Stiles raises a brow at him, and Jackson shoots him a pointed look. Stiles smirks despite the situation, turning his attention to Scott, standing beside the passenger door.

"Look," Derek grunts, "Look, they probably shot me with wolfsbane. That's poisonous to us; I need you to get the bullet. It's the only way I can stop the poison."

Scott furrows his brow in worry, "How am I supposed to get the bullet without getting caught? I'm pretty sure a house full of hunters would catch me."

"Just do it, Scott," Stiles orders, "Allison's coming."

Scott snaps his attention to the side, eyes widening at the sight of Allison making her way toward them, brows furrowed in concern. Scott glances at the three in the car before nodding, sprinting over to the beta girl to cut her off. Stiles quickly pulls his jeep out of the lot, speeding past and frightening unsuspecting students.

Jackson snorts, "Good driving."

Stiles quirks his lips a little, "Well. It's not like we have time to put up with them stopping in the middle of the road to gossip."

Jackson snorts again, "So, where are we going?"

"My house," Stiles answers, glancing at Derek, "I doubt you want to go back to yours when you can't defend yourself, right? My dad's working late shift today, so it'll be fine for now."

"Right," Derek breathes out, hissing when he shifts a little.

* * *

"So," Jackson begins, he and Stiles staring at the prone form of Derek lying on the living room couch of the Stilinski home, "Werewolves."

"Mm," Stiles hums; he takes a seat on one of the kitchen chairs he pulled into the living room, situated in front of Derek, "Werewolves."

Jackson sighs heavily, irritation alight in the sound, and Stiles' lips twitch. Jackson takes a seat next to Stiles, another kitchen chair pulled into the living room. Derek glances at them briefly before he allows his eyes to fall shut, but Stiles isn't worried, because Derek's chest is still rising and falling rather heavily. He'll start to worry when the breaths become less noticeable.

"McCall's a werewolf, then?" Jackson continued, "I knew something weird was going on with him, and I knew it started with the animal attacks. I heard you say the word werewolf, but I tried to pass it off as you two joking. But then, Lydia heard you talk about wolves and hunters and bites, so I..."

"Worked it out?" Stiles smirks.

Jackson snorts, "Yeah. You said Alphas, too, she said. What's that about? You talking about some wolf's gender or something?"

"No," Stiles answers, "Werewolves are like actual wolves, you know, so Alpha, Beta, and Omega are talking about their ranks, not their gender."

"Oh, yeah," Jackson shrugs, "Wolves don't have alpha, beta, and omega genders, right? Just male and female. I know that a lot of scientists started calling the ranks in their packs like human genders. It was weird, but I guess, in that day and age with the way the genders were treated, it made sense at the time."

Stiles snorts in irritation, knowing that Jackson is referring to alphas being treated like kings, betas like second-class citizens, and omegas like slaves, and Stiles feels a brief hatred for past societies; thank god that time is over with, "Yeah."

"So, what?" Jackson asks, "Derek is the one who Bit Scott?"

"No," Stiles says, "Derek's a Beta wolf. Apparently, the only type of werewolf that can turn a human is an Alpha."

"What, then, there's another werewolf running around town?" Jackson asks before his eyes widen in realization, "This Alpha is the one going around killing people, isn't it?"

"I knew you were secretly smart," Stiles smirks, and Jackson huffs, but Stiles can see that the alpha boy is more amused than annoyed.

"Jesus," He snorts, "You and McCall got yourselves into some shit, didn't you?"

"Tell me about it," Stiles mutters, glancing over at Derek. He starts when he realize he can't see Derek's chest rising and falling, and he quickly shakes Derek. The wolf-man starts awake, hissing when he instinctively lifts his arms in defense.

"I don't think sleeping is such a good idea, Derek," Stiles states, because this is Derek and Derek is the person he likes, and the person he likes is hurt enough that his breathing is slowing down, and for once, he isn't sure what to do, "Try to stay awake."

"How long does it take to find a bullet?" Jackson asks.

"Well," Stiles shrugs, "The Argents are the hunters I was talking about over the phone. They've probably got, like, a million bullets."

"The Argents are werewolves hunters?" Jackson raises a brow, lips twitching, "Argent is French for silver, isn't it?"

Stiles smirks, lips twitching when he notices Derek's irritation. Derek grunts halfheartedly, "Shut up"

Stiles and Jackson snort before Stiles feels his phone vibrate, pulling it from his pocket. His brows furrow in irritation when he reads the message before shoving back in his pocket, annoyance alight in his movements. He turns his attention back to the two alphas in the room.

"Scott got caught," Stiles mutters, and Derek tiredly rolls his eyes, "Allison's family is making him stay for dinner."

Jackson scoffs, and Stiles turns his attention to Derek, brows furrowing in worry at the sweat accumulating on the man's face and at how pale he has become.

"Hey," He suddenly states, "What's your favorite band?"

Derek's brows furrow, too tired to catch on, "What?"

"Mine's an indie band," Stiles shrugs. He grins lightly at Derek, the absurdity of the change in conversation waking him somewhat, and Stiles continues, keeping Derek awake through distraction. He talks about his favorite band, an indie rock band named Lydia; he talks about how their music has changed a lot over the years, but he still loves it, though he'll always have a soft spot for their earlier works. He talks about how he thinks the name is ironic, because there's this girl named Lydia that he admires a lot because she's smart and devious and she hides behind a facade like he does, out of fear of scaring people away. He talks about all the different things he notices, like how his dad has started to cut back on his drinking because he wants to make his son proud, how Scott is actually starting to take his new roll as a werewolf seriously, how he thinks Allison will definitely be on their side if she gets brought into the know by them first, before her family tells her. He talks about how Lydia knowing will be an asset because she's a genius and she can strategize better than the army.

He tells Derek about how his favorite flowers are cornflowers because the blue color they become is pretty, he talks about how he loves magic tricks even though they're predictable to him and he can easily learn the secret behind them, he talks about how he thinks fireworks are awesome even though they can't fire them too often in Beacon Hills because of the large forested areas around the town.

It's when Derek finally starts talking back, telling Stiles about the things he likes, that Stiles allows himself to relax and smile.

* * *

Allison isn't stupid; she knows something is up with Scott. She's been in Beacon Hills long enough to know that all the shortcuts to her house aren't short enough for Scott to beat her here on his bike. She sees the way people treat Scott, too, like he's not worth their time, but his lacrosse skills call for grudging respect; like his lacrosse skills are a new development entirely. And, she understands from experience that, with proper training, anyone is capable of anything; but, from what she's learned, it's as if Scott just suddenly became superman; and that's not possible, because it takes years of training to reach that level of skill, not just training over winter break*.

He acts strange about odd things, as well. Like, when she brought out her compound bow; he genuinely seemed to think that she would be willing to shoot him with it; he seemed to think that her father's gun business was something to fear, as well, even if he told her that he knows what her father does for a living because Stiles' dad is the sheriff and Stiles talked about it with him.

He's been acting weird all day, as well, ever since he told her that he and Derek reached an understanding and that they're friends now. He's been acting weird about her family, too; she can understand to a certain degree, her father's questioning making most alphas and beta boys she's brought home uncomfortable. But, Scott's been taking it a bit farther than those people ever did; like, he's afraid her family is genuinely going to hunt him down.

He's been especially uncomfortable around her Aunt Kate, though, and that's a little odd because most people she's brought home have liked her Aunt Kate the most out of everyone in her family. She wonders if, maybe, he can sense the tension between Kate and her father. She's not sure what happened between them, but she knows that her dad and her aunt had some kind of falling out around the time she was born, and that they've never completely healed from it. Her mom told her it wasn't because of her birth, though; she says that there was always a tension between Chris and Kate ever since they were kids. It's a thick tension, and even she notices it, so she wonders if Scott does, as well, and if it makes him uncomfortable.

Scott's been sneaking off to make random phone calls, as well. Like, right now.

"No, I haven't found it yet," His voice is hushed as he speaks into the phone, but there's a frantic edge to it, "I don't know, there's a million bullets here. This place is, like, the freaking Wal-Mart of guns!"

Allison furrows her brows, eyes widening a little. What exactly does Scott need with a bullet?

"Scott?" She calls out, and Scott starts, nearly dropping the phone, and he twists around jerkily.

"Allison!" He exclaims, eyes wide.

"Um," She starts, voice a little hesitant, "Why are you looking for bullets...?"

"Uh..." He stammers, bringing the phone up to his ear; he listens for a moment before hissing, "What? No! Stiles!"

So, _Stiles_ needs a bullet...?

He suddenly holds the phone up to her, looking resigned, "Stiles wants to talk to you...."

She looks at the phone for a long moment, brows raised, before slowly taking it from him. She hesitantly holds it up to her ear, "Um... hello?"

"Allison," Stiles' voice is cheery and sweet as can be, but there's an undertone there that Allison instantly catches; he sounds somewhat threatening and somewhat worried, and she understands that whatever he's worried about is short on time, so he wants her to move it along; _now_ , "Listen, remember that pet project I wanted to work with you on?"

"Oh, yeah, those Old French books?" Allison asks, making her way through the hallway; she's always paced whenever she speaks on the phone; she's vaguely aware of Scott trailing after her.

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles continues, "I haven't actually had the chance to bring them to you, yet, but listen. I managed to translate a couple of them, and what I learned made me want to test something. See, there's this plant called...."

His voice is suddenly muffled, as if he's taken the phone from his mouth and is speaking to someone in the background, "What's the proper name for wolfsbane, Jackson?"

_Jackson's_ there? 

Wolfsbane?

His voice suddenly returns, clear once again, "Nordic Blue Monkshood. See, I found out that some people would use it on their bullets and, apparently, some people still do that today. So, I was wondering if your dad has any bullets like that? See, I know he sells firearms and ammunition to law enforcement; you know, my dad's the sheriff, and he talked about your dad a couple of times. Do you think you could ask your dad about it; if I could take a look at it?"

Allison's brows furrow again, "But, I don't understand. What would you be doing with the bullet?"

"Oh, I was gonna have my dad look at it so he can tell me about it," Stiles' tone of voice makes it easy for to imagine his shrug, "Maybe look up the effects of aconite poisoning while I'm at it. I could probably ask your dad, too, once I get the chance to come over with those books."

"Oh, well," That actually sounds somewhat reasonable; a little believable, but, still, something's off, "Yeah, okay, that sounds good. Tell me what you find out whenever you come over with the books, though, so I can catch up."

"Of course," Stiles drawls, and Allison can't help but smile a little; she genuinely likes Stiles, even the hints of violence he tries hard to hide, and she hopes he comes over with those books soon; she feels like she and him don't spend enough time together.

Luckily, she doesn't have to go hunting for her dad. He rounds the corner, expression thunderous, probably thinking she and Scott snuck off to go do porn somewhere, and he stops short at the sight of her on the phone. Scott, though, suddenly appears nervous, backing up a little, but Allison doesn't blame him; her father is a genuine, effortless badass, and Scott really _should_ be afraid.

"Oh, Dad," She says, and her father's expression immediately softens, "Listen, my friend Stiles was wondering about some... bullets?"

Chris' brows raise, "Bullets?"

"Yeah, he was wondering if he could borrow some for a pet project of his," Allison continues, "He said they were special bullets his dad talked about you selling to him - his dad's the sheriff, by the way. He said they were called.... Stiles?... Nordic Blue Monkshood."

Allison glances at Scott, and the alpha boy smiles nervously at her. She completely misses the look of understanding that passes over her dad's face, followed by a spark of rage entering his eyes, before he mellows his face out.

"Well," He starts, and there's something strange about his voice, but Allison can't quite place what that is, "I know... that your Aunt Kate has a few bullets like that; she likes to use them for hunting."

Allison's sees Scott's flinch, and she furrows her brows in question, but the boy merely smiles at her again. 

"Come with me, I'll grab one for you," Chris continues, immediately twisting around and going further down the hall. Allison and Scott quickly follow, following Chris' lead when his movements slow down and he begins walking much quieter, as if he doesn't want to draw any attention to the room he's entering.

"Are we... not going to ask Aunt Kate?" Allison asks hesitantly.

Chris merely smiles, a dangerous smile, but a smile nonetheless, and Allison sees how he tries his best to soften it for her, "You let me worry about your Aunt Kate."

Her father suddenly kneels down, dragging a large bag out from under Kate's bed. The same bag Kate panicked about when Allison tried to help her unpack. When he opens it, Allison feels her heartbeat pick up. There are weapons, so many of them. She knows her aunt likes to go hunting, but this is far too many for such a thing. Some of these guns look like overkill; she even thinks she notices a sniper rifle. Who needs a sniper for hunting? They all look so well cared for and well-used, too, and it makes Allison swallow nervously, a sick feeling entering her stomach.

"Allison?" 

She jerks, her attention brought back to the phone in her hand, "Yes, Stiles?"

"Look, I don't... I don't mean to rush you, but... could you please hurry?" Stiles' voice is almost frantic, voice cracking with worry, and Allison furrows her brows in concern. Suddenly, the voices are muffled again, and she knows she's not supposed to hear this, but she listens anyway; she's too curious to worry about Stiles' privacy, wanting to know why something as simple as a pet project would cause his voice to sound so terrified.

She can hear Jackson's voice in the background, "His arm's turning purple."

"He says if the infection reaches his heart, it'll kill him," Stiles' voice is hushed, worried and scared and somewhat volatile, and it cracks over a word that immediately catches Allison's attention, "He's _dying_ , Jackson!"

Allison freezes at that.

Dying? Someone is _dying_?

When she looks at her dad, the words she wants to say die on her lips as he pulls out a bullet case, opening it up. It's filled to the brim, the bullets lined neatly in each space provided for them. Except for one. There's a bullet missing, and that means one of these overkill guns have been used, and Stiles and Jackson are talking about someone dying.

Did her aunt... _shoot_ someone...?

"There we go," Chris says, snatching a bullet from the case. He hands it to Scott, and the alpha boy glances up at the man nervously, "You tell Stiles to be careful. The last thing we need is some poor omega getting hurt, right?"

Her dad smiles like a shark, and Scott nods his head speedily, shooting Chris a nervous smile that fades just as quickly as it appears. Chris pats him on the shoulder before tightening his hold on him and leading him from the room.

Allison glances around the room some more. Her father cleaned up quickly, and there's no evidence that they were even here to begin with. When her father calls her name, she tightens her hold on the phone, gaze focused on the point of the bed she knows the suitcase is hidden under.

Her aunt _shot_ someone.

* * *

"Now, Scott," Chris says, smiling tightly, showing too much teeth, as he walks Scott to the door, and Scott swallows nervously, "Make sure your friend gets that bullet. You never know what it could do; it could even end up saving a life."

"Yeah," Scott breathes out, voice cracking from nervousness.

* * *

"I need some tools, some... knives or saws or something," Derek mutters, pacing through the kitchen in an attempt to ward off all the lightheadedness he's feeling. Stiles paces after him in concern, and a bit of irritation, attempting to get him to stop moving around, stop irritating your injury, please, and _stop dragging blood over the floors, asshole_. It's Jackson that gets him to stop moving, grabbing his arm and shoving him toward the center counter, forcing Derek to lean against it.

"Why the _hell_ do you need a _saw_?" Stiles snaps, and his voice is a bit volatile and, in the back of his mind, he wonders why he tends to show his worry through violence.

"Last resort," Derek mutters, "If Scott doesn't get here with the bullet in time, my arm needs to come off."

"You _want_ _us_ ," Jackson snaps lowly, "To _cut off_ your _arm_."

"No, Derek," Stiles mutters, a bit snappish, because this is Derek and Derek is the person he likes and there's no way he's cutting off Derek's _arm_ , "We got Allison to talk to Chris. You know Chris and you know Chris will help you if you really need it. Scott's got the bullet, and with his werewolfishness, he'll be able to get here on time. Just calm down. Raising your blood pressure is not going to help your situation."

"You trust her?" Derek suddenly asks, and Stiles lifts a pointed brow at him.

"Who? Allison?" Jackson questions, brows furrowed, because he hangs out with Allison and Lydia a lot, and Allison really doesn't seem like the type of person to go  _werewolf_ hunting.

"Allison's good, Derek," Stiles answers, voice firm and even, "She wasn't raised by Kate, she was raised by Chris. You told me yourself that Chris follows the Code to the T. And, even then, Allison cares about people, even people she doesn't know. She's really not the kind of person that goes around shooting things just because she can. She's... she's good, Derek."

"Okay," Derek murmurs, and Stiles raises an eyebrow in question.

"That's it?" He asks, a bit incredulous at the easy acceptance, "No, 'she could be lying', 'she's from a Hunter family,' 'you can't trust her'? None of that?"

"I trust _you_ ," Derek states, voice firm, "And if you trust her, then I'll trust her."

There's a long pause before Stiles nods, a lips twitching into a small smile, because the person he likes _trusts_ him and that's amazing, "Okay."

There's suddenly a slam from the living room, and Scott comes sprinting into the kitchen, expression frantic, holding up the bullet for all to see, "I got it! I got it!"

Derek reacts quickly, snatching the bullet from him, observing it for a small moment.

"What're you gonna do with it?" Jackson asks.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna...." Derek's voice fades, and everyone instinctively reacts. Jackson and Stiles rush forward to catch Derek as he collapses while Scott runs after the bullet that fell from Derek's slack hand. The bullet falls through the kitchen air vent, and Scott curses loudly. He tries to ignore Stiles' frantic yelling about Derek not waking up, about Derek dying, about Scott needing to _hurry the fuck up_ , and he tries to concentrate. He's able to pull his animal side to the surface, pulling the cage from the vent completely, not a single concern for the screws that go flying, before reaching down and snatching the bullet.

"I got it!" He exclaims. Jackson glances at him before gently ushering Stiles - shaking Derek and taking his face in his hands in a frantic attempt to wake him - to the side; he reels back a fist and strikes Derek in the face as hard as he can. Derek snaps awake, but Jackson clutches his fist, face scrunched up in pain.

Note to self, Jackson thinks, Werewolves have _really_ hard skin.

Scott rushes back with the bullet, handing it to Derek while he helps Stiles pull Derek to his feet, letting the man fall against the center counter in the kitchen. The three watch in fascination as Derek bites the bullet in half, pulling the cap off. He taps the open bullet against the counter, herbs falling out. They flinch back a little in surprise when Derek removes a lighter from his pocket and burns the herbs, watching as they spark and fizzle for a brief moment.

Derek scoops the burnt herbs into his hand. The man catches Stiles' eye for a moment before taking a deep breath. He presses the herbs against his wound, digging them in. The boys flinch back when Derek shouts in pain, falling to the floor, and an inhuman, grow-like cry escapes Derek as the wound begins healing. The purple fades from his skin and the wound knits shut, and suddenly his arm looks as if it was never injured to begin with.

Derek breathes in and out heavily, and Stiles snorts before a grin lights up his face, worry dissipating now that the danger is over, "That. Was _awe_ some."

Scott shoots him a look, but the alpha boy quickly rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to Derek, knowing full well that his friend is far too fascinated by seemingly horrific things, because Stiles is his best friend and he knows that his best friend is a bit off.

"You... okay?" Jackson asks somewhat hesitantly, glancing around the room, taking in the sight of the destroyed air vent and the drips of blood Derek trailed in the kitchen.

"Aside from the agonizing pain?" Derek mutters as he stands, rolling his sleeve back down to cover his now heeled arm, "I'm good."

"Well," Stiles smirks, "The ability to use sarcasm is a good indication."

Derek rolls his eyes, and to anybody else it would be true disdain, but Stiles notices things and he knows Derek's motions are fond, rather than annoyed. Jackson helps Derek stand, and Derek nods at him in thanks before turning his attention to Scott.

"Well," Derek snips, "Is this enough proof for you, Scott, or do you need to see what _else_  hunters are capable of?"

"Allison's not like that," Scott snaps, and Derek, along with Jackson, rolls his eyes. He already knows that, from what Stiles has said, though he can cut Scott some slack for not being here when it was spoken. He's talking about Scott's distrust of him, despite Derek working with him on his control. Derek isn't stupid; he knows the only reason Scott is working with him is because of Stiles.

"I wasn't _talking_ about Allison," Derek grunts, "But, now that we're on the topic of the Argents, you shouldn't trust all of them, either. Allison and Chris, I'd trust. Victoria, I'd give the benefit of the doubt. Kate, though. You stay away from her; she'll _destroy_ you."

"Look," Scott shrugs, "I understand you're kind of wary about her because she shot you, but she was probably looking for the Alpha. I'm pretty sure that's the only reason she's here."

Derek sighs through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment before he snaps them open, "Fine. I guess you _do_ need more proof."

"Proof of _what_?" Scott snaps.

"I'm gonna show you what the Argents are capable of," Derek states, "What Codebreakers are capable of."

* * *

And that's how the party of four ended up in Beacon Hills' long-term care unit. Stiles and Jackson ignore Scott's constant questions, following Derek's lead as the alpha wolf leads them into the hospital. They follow him through the halls, avoiding as many people as they can, knowing full well that visiting hours have long since passed. Derek leads them to a seemingly empty hallways, no nurses or doctors in sight, stopping by one of the rooms. He gently opens the door, and all eyes immediately fall to the prone form on the wheelchair in the middle of the room.

The man is limp in his chair, dark hair shaggy and ragged. From the angle he is in, Stiles can see puffy facial hair, an indication that he hasn't been shaved in a long while. He eyes are open, though, and Stiles wonders how they don't dry out; if the nurses have to give him drops every once in a while or not. He wonders what he was, the man's pheromones so dull and dead it's impossible for Stiles to tell if he was alpha, beta, or omega.

"Who is he?" Scott asks, voice quiet and hesitant.

"My uncle," Derek states, never taking his eyes off the man, "Peter Hale."

"Is he..." Jackson begins, voices nearly dying when Derek snaps his attention to him, "Is he... like you? A werewolf?"

"He was," Derek answers, returning his attention to his uncle, "And now he's barely even human. Six years ago, my sister and I, me and Laura, we were at school when our house caught fire. Eleven people were trapped inside. He was the only survivor."

Derek suddenly snaps forward, jerking Peter's chair around, and Scott and Jackson start at the sight of the scars covering the man's face. They're horrifyingly deep and rigid, and completely cover one half of his face. Stiles furrows his brows, taking in the sight of the man's scars and his eyes. He knows that it's common for coma patients to open their eyes; that they're aroused, but not really conscious, and he knows that Peter is probably no different, werewolf or not. And, from what he's seen, which, granted, isn't much, their eyes aren't... alive. They're cold and dead and they don't shine the way they're supposed to. Peter's eyes are the same, and it's disconcerting; it makes something in his chest ping, and he's not used to that feeling.

" _Look_ at this," Derek snaps, "This is what rogue hunters do, Scott! You know, there were people in my family that were perfectly human! There were _children_ in my family! Those people trapped my in family in our own home and set the place on fire! What's gonna happen to Peter when he wakes up, huh? He had a daughter, you know, her name was Malia*. She was in the house when the place went up in smoke. What's gonna happen when he wakes up, and he finds out his entire family, his _daughter_ , is gone? You still trust the Argents, Scott? Still think they're these wonderful people? Kate sure as hell isn't; look what she did."

Scott stares for a long moment. He looks an odd combination of devastated and resigned, and he suddenly twists around and storms out of the room. Stiles watches him go, Jackson following, but makes no move to stop him, turning his attention back to Peter.

Outside, Scott stops, leaning against the wall to the hospital entrance. He ignores Jackson as the other alpha finds a spot near him, leaning against the opposite wall. He can feel Jackson's eyes on him, and Scott rolls his, giving in.

"What?" He asks, voice dull.

"You're not gonna cry, are you, McCall?" Jackson grunts, "Because I can't deal with you crying."

Scott sighs, "No, I'm not, I'm just..."

Jackson rolls his eyes, "Worried about Allison."

"Yeah."

"Look, McCall, the only thing I can tell you is that Allison is a nice girl, and if she saw what we did, she would be just as horrified about hunting as we are now. But, here's the thing, McCall; she's also human, and this is her family. She's perfectly capable of being manipulated by her family. Because they're her _family_ , and anyone, no matter who they are, will choose their family first. Until she sees what we have, her family's got her on their side. This... _pedestal_ that you put her on is ridiculous, Scott. Like I said, she's human and humans make mistakes. Right now, our job is to keep her on our side, Scott. If she finds out about this from her family before she finds out from us, they can manipulate the situation in their favor. Lying to her isn't the answer."

"You think we should _tell_ her?"

Jackson rolls his eyes in annoyance at Scott incredulous tone, snapping, " _Yes_."

"But.... What about Lydia, does she know?"

"Not yet," Jackson shrugs, "She suspects, but she doesn't know. She will soon, though."

* * *

Allison furrows her brows, taking in the sight of the piece of glass in her fingers. She looks at her aunt's car once again; the window is shiny and sleek and brand new, but there's broken glass littered around her car. Her father said she had a flat tire, and her aunt said she needed a crank. Looking back at the piece of glass in her hand, Allison doesn't think either of those things are true. It looks like someone just smashed her aunt's window in.

Allison purses her lips before twisting around and making her way inside. Muffled voices cause her to freeze in place for a moment before she follows them, stopping by the living room. She makes sure she stays hidden by the door, not wanting her aunt and her father to see her, and she listens. She wants to know what is going on because she thinks her aunt shot someone and she thinks her father knows. She also thinks her father is angry about it because he's been giving Kate the cold shoulder since Scott left. But, they're talking now, and what they're talking about doesn't make sense. Not at all.

"The one that attacked me was big, it had... width and power," Kate says, "But the one I shot," Allison flinches, "Was lean and fast."

"So," Her father's voice is cold, so cold, and Allison's never heard it sound like that before; she knows her aunt and her father don't get along, and from the flippant manner her aunt talks about shooting someone, she thinks she's starting to understand why, "You shot an innocent wolf."

Wolf?

Kate scoffs, " _Innocent._ Please, Chris, you don't-"

"Derek Hale," Chris interrupts, "Is the only other confirmed wolf in town. Never once has he spilled human blood; you shot an innocent wolf, Kate. We follow the Code."

Kate scoffs again, her voice sounding some odd mixture of patronizing and disgusted, "You and the _Code_."

"It's there for a _reason_ , Kate," Chris speaks lowly, and his icy tone makes Allison shudder even though it's not directed at her, "We follow the Code. Do you understand me?"

There's a long pause before Allison hears the sound of a match lighting, and Kate speaks up once again.

"Of course," Her voice is light and airy, and Allison instantly knows that her aunt is lying, "I always play by the rules."

Allison's whirring thoughts are drowned out by the sound of a fire loudly bursting to life.

* * *

Inside the hospital, Stiles takes a seat on the bed next to Peter's chair, his attention solely on the prone man. He takes in the ragged hair and beard, and he rolls his eyes. Honestly, weren't the nurses supposed to cut and shave him? What have they been doing this whole time? 

He takes in Peter's dull blue eyes, and he wonders what the animal inside him must be feeling. His entire Pack is gone, and his only two remaining packmates just... left him behind. That reminds him, Stiles thinks, shooting Derek a pointed look.

"You told me..." Stiles starts, "That packs make wolves stronger, literally, and help them heal better, too. You told me that packs keep wolves stable. You told me that pack bonds become so integrated within you that it's agony to lose them. So, explain to me, Derek, why exactly you and your sister left Peter behind to rot. What the hell?"

"It's not," Derek swallows, shaking his head before turning his attention back to Peter, "I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay, I wanted to help Peter heal. I didn't want to leave him alone. But, Laura, she... I don't know, she and Peter never really got along. He never really got along with most people in the pack. He was... too 'inhonorable', my mom would say, and the Alpha's behavior influences the Pack's quite a lot, you know."

Derek scoffs, "Inhonorable. He was the pack's enforcer; it's left hand. It was his _job_ to be inhonorable. To protect the pack, but... no one else seemed to think so. I didn't understand it, I didn't understand why they would... just cull him to the side like that. My sister, though, she's my mother's daughter, her successor, and she went along with it. She made me leave. She was my Alpha, I couldn't... I couldn't tell her no."

"She forced compliance..." Stiles whispers, and he feels a spark of rage igniting within him. He understands, to a certain degree, that she was young and frightened and she just lost her family, her _Pack_ , but how could she such a thing to her own brother?

Derek scoffs again, this time more disdainfully, "Yeah. I could understand up to a certain point. She was young and she was scared after what the hunters did, but... What, we couldn't have Peter transferred to a hospital in New York? We couldn't come back in the six years he's been here? We're just supposed to leave him behind to rot in the hospital, no pack bonds, no support, where any hunter could just waltz in and end it? I didn't... Laura wouldn't let me leave; kept saying it was dangerous, that the hunters could catch me, but... but what about Peter? Are we not supposed to worry about him?"

Derek sighs, shaking his head again before returning his eyes to Peter. His once powerful and proud uncle looking so small makes something twist inside him. He never understood. His mother was all about honor and treaties and pack alliances, and she had no use for a left hand because it was a position she disagreed with. But...

"You know," Derek murmurs, "My mother may have thought my uncle was inhonorable, but everything he did, he did for Pack. The police told me, you know, he wasn't even in the house when it caught on fire. That means he ran inside and tried to break the mountain ash and the wolfsbane lines to save everyone. I think he's the one who dragged them to the basement to try and get them away from the fire. And now look at him... I wonder if she would call him inhonorable now..."

Stiles scoffs himself, "Who knows. People like that are usually... so frustratingly black-and-white about the world. My mom was the same, you know, and... there's really nothing you can do about it. They have to wake up on their own."

"I know," Derek mutters, and Stiles sighs, standing from his seat.

"Let's go," Stiles murmurs.

He glances back at Peter once, and he decides he's going to start visiting him.

Peter needs a friend, he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you can see, I have plans for Peter. I often feel like he gets the short end of the stick. I mean, can you imagine hearing and smelling your family burn alive while you're burning yourself, only to be trapped in a coma for six years, abandoned by your only remaining family, to rot with nothing but your nightmares for company? Can you blame the guy for going a little off his rocker when he can finally move? I sure can't.
> 
> *I'm changing the timeline due to plans I have regarding season 2. So, season 1, rather than taking place during the winter semester (August-December) is, instead, taking place during the summer semester (January-May). Let's just say the school is very strict with it's players and they have to try out each semester; my school was like that. So, once we get to the formal, it will be the Summer Formal rather than the Winter Formal. Keep this in mind.
> 
> *Yes, I'm changing Malia's background because of plans I have for... other things I can't say without spoiling my story. But, no she's not dead and she will be making an appearance come season 3. I want Malia in my story because - unpopular opinion - I actually happen to like Malia; I think she's awesome. I don't understand all the hate she gets. I feel like half the people who hate on her only do so because she made out with Stiles (yes, they're romance was a bit off and rushed, but dude, don't take it out on the character). It's... annoying, actually. I just don't understand the point of making a life out of hating on a character. Yes, there are characters I can't stand, but I'm not gonna make an entire blog about it. I have better things to do. Life is too short to waste it hating on a fictional character.


	6. The Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia gets brought into the know in a rather violent manner, and Scott decides to skip school to think the changes in his life over, Allison and Stiles make a new friend while translating the books, and Allison ends up meeting Peter, and Stiles and Derek have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STEREK!!! :D

"Can someone help me find _The Notebook_?" Jackson calls out, voice a bit irritable. He really doesn't want to watch that movie, a sappy love story between a beta and an omega, made in a time where it was still unusual for betas and omegas to date. He figures, though, it's the best way he can make it up to Lydia for not telling her what he found out about McCall and Stilinski, even if she doesn't know he hasn't told her.

He then notices the flickering light, and his attention is drawn to the taken-apart fixture and ladder. 

Then he sees the blood.

He should leave. He shouldn't look. He does anyway, though, curiosity getting the better of him. He slowly makes his way over, rounding the aisle.

He recoils at the sight of the body, the movie worker's throat practically non-existent.

He hears growling, and he whips his head around, catching a glimpse of a red-eyed creature. Is this the Alpha? The creature moves, and Jackson immediately takes cover behind one of the aisles. He can hear the creature growling and stalking through the store before a sudden crash catches him off guard and he gets buried underneath the movie shelf he had been hiding in.

He attempts to crawl out, but he freezes.

The Alpha is above him.

He holds as still as possible, trying to control his panicked breaths. He cringes, a sudden sharp pain springing from the back of his neck, and he knows that the Alpha is digging its claws into him. He lets out a few, quiet noises of pain before the Alpha suddenly pulls its claws free and sprints out of the store.

Feeling blood dripping down his neck, Jackson doesn't even get a chance to worry for Lydia before he hears her scream.

* * *

"Did they forget my curly fries?"

Stiles glances at his father, shooting him a pointed look, and the sheriff lifts his brows.

"Fast food places always put too many spices on their curly fries," Stiles snips, "You can have curly fries if you get a turkey burger. It's called compromise, Dad."

John shoots his son a look that is some odd combination between exasperation, amazement, irritation, and resignation. Stiles is actually impressed; he didn't know you could convey that many feelings with one glance alone. Stiles shoots him a smug smirk, taking a bit out of one of his own curly fries, and John rolls his eyes, shifting in his seat.

Stiles pretty much strong armed his dad into letting him ride in the cruiser with him during his shift, and John's the type of alpha that's adamant about having at least some of his scent on his family, especially the omega ones, so his dad really didn't have much of a problem with it considering they haven't seen each other all day. Besides, Stiles likes riding in the cruiser; it gives him a better chance to catch up on the happenings in Beacon Hills. John must know this, but probably gave up in trying to keep him out of police business.

"So," John snips back, "Did you want to sit with me on my shift tonight just to judge my choices in food, or did you have another reason?"

Stiles pauses, slowly placing his food back in its bag, and John immediately catches onto the discomfort his son is feeling.

"Stiles?"

"Um," Stiles mumbles, brows furrowed, "Dad... what do you do... if you... like... someone...?"

John blanks out for a small moment before the panic sets in, "Oh, Jesus. Do I have to shoot someone? Is it an alpha or a beta? Maybe an omega, you don't have a preference. Still, I am perfectly willing to shoo-"

"Dad," Stiles interrupts, voice firm, "I don't want you to shoot him."

"'Him'?" John instantly goes on alert.

Stiles rolls his eyes, "For god's sake, Dad, if I had known this is how you'd react, I'd go to Allison."

"Okay, okay," John takes in a deep breath, "Okay. So... what do you need... to know...?"

Stiles stares at him for a long moment, a pointed look in his eyes before he rolls them again, sighing and mellowing out some, "I don't know... I've never liked anyone before."

"Ah, Jesus," John grunts, "Now I gotta deal with first crushes. Please just tell me what he is, at least."

Stiles rolls his eyes once more, "He's an alpha."

"Ah Jesus."

"Dad!"

"Okay," John relents, "Okay, so... what makes you think you like him?"

"I don't know," Stiles mumbles, "He's nice to me, and he got me presents. And he likes a lot of the same stuff I do. Like the band Lydia. No one I know has ever even _heard_ of that band, and it's his favorite just like me. He makes me feel weird and hot and nervous, and he says that I smell nice, and I think he smells nice, too, and I've never thought alphas smelled nice before. I like it when I hang out with him, and I like it when we talk, too, and I want to do it more. He makes me feel special, I guess."

John stares for a moment, "When did he _smell_ you?"

" _Dad!_ "

"Okay," John grunts, "So, obviously, you _do_ like him."

"Really?" Stiles asks, and John instantly melts at the insecurity in the tone. He knows there's something off with his son - he's the goddamn sheriff, he's supposed to notice these things - but around people he cares about, Stiles will open up. Instead of acting like the ruthless, cunning boy John knows he is, he'll act like... well, an omega. Soft and sweet and worried about whether or not the alpha he likes will like him back. 

John didn't know which was worse. Rejection or acceptance. Either way, it makes him want to find this boy and let him know _exactly_ where Stiles gets his ruthlessness from.

"Yes," John states, voice somewhat uncomfortable, "You like that he cares about you enough to listen to you and get you things, you like spending time with him, you like listening to what he has to say, then... you have some... _feelings_ for him..."

"And... what do I _do_ about that?"

John clears his throat, shifting in his seat, "Well... I guess you could... talk... with him about it."

"But what if he doesn't like me back?"

"Then... then it probably wasn't meant to be, but, um... you could try staying friends, I guess. No reason to lose your friendship over this, even if rejection _does_ hurt. I'm sure he'd understand if you'd take some time to yourself before you start talking again."

"Okay," Stiles says, and John blinks.

He stares for a moment, "Okay?"

Stiles shrugs, "Okay."

"Okay," John sighs with relief, "Thank god... we're done."

Stiles snorts, shooting his dad a smirk before snatching a curly fry from his sack and taking a bite. He listens as the police radio suddenly comes to life, and John takes a hold, answering the call. He shoots Stiles a look as the omega shifts closer to hear better, but the boy merely grins at him, and John rolls his eyes.

"Got a report about a possible 187."

Stiles lifts a brow, "A murder?"

* * *

Derek stares down at the mess below him, police cars and ambulances covering the lot of the movie store. He watches Jackson as the alpha attempts to comfort a red-haired girl who appears to be unresponsive, completely in shock, while an EMT attempts to take care of a wound on the back of his neck.

Movement catches his attention, and he watches as another cruiser pulls into the lot and the sheriff steps out. He stares at the vehicle, and he sees Stiles sitting inside, the omega's attention drawn to the chaos in front of him. 

He doesn't understand. The Alpha appears to go after the most random of people; a bus driver, a rental store worker... his sister. What connection is there between them? Or is the Alpha just so feral, it's killing at random? He doesn't know, but he does know that the Alpha appears to have gotten more aggressive since... since Kate came into town. Which means it's not so feral that it doesn't recognize hunters and it's not so feral that it doesn't know to take precautions.

"Is...."

Derek flickers his eyes over to Scott.

"Is this normal...?" Scott asks, voice quiet and hesitant and a bit scared, and Derek wonders what he must think of werewolves, getting dragged into this world the way he has, "Is this what we do...?"

Derek turns his attention back to the spectacle below, watching as EMTs cart out the dead body. He stares as a hand falls limply from beneath the sheet covering it.

"No," He finally answers, eyes on the body, "We're predators. But, it doesn't mean we have to be killers."

"Then why is _he_ a killer?" Scott asks.

"That's what we need to find out," Derek murmurs.

He glances at Stiles once more before twisting around, stalking his way off of the roof of the rental store. Scott stares after him for a moment before looking down below once more, then he turns and follows Derek's lead, leaving the spectacle behind.

Neither of them notice the spiral glow red below their feet.

* * *

Allison looks over her new necklace in the mirror for a moment. She wasn't lying when she told her aunt that she loved it. It really is a beautiful necklace, and, what's more, it's a family heirloom. She looks over the snarling wolf in the center of the pendant, and she wonders what this wolf has to do with her family history. 

Her aunt's a good actress, she thinks, but Allison has known her long enough to recognize the slipping facade. There's something about this town, about Beacon Hills, that has set her aunt off. Allison knows her aunt lived here for a short while, and Allison wonders if something happened here that her Aunt Kate doesn't want to think about.

She purses her lips, shaking her head briefly, before exciting the bathroom and heading down the hall. She stops short when she hears voices, listening to her father's dark and foreboding voice.

"You gave her that necklace?" Chris demands.

"You were supposed to give it to her when she was fifteen, Chris," Her aunt's voice is light and teasing, and Allison can just imagine the spark of rage igniting in her father's eyes, "You seemed a bit hesitant to give it to her yourself, so I just helped you out a bit. It's time, you know."

"Kate," Chris' voice darkens further, and Allison takes a nervous step back because she's still not used to that powerful, commanding tone coming from her father, her loving father who spoils her and treats her like a princess and is so, so protective of his family, "This is _my_ family. Not yours. You will remember that I didn't invite you here. You've already broken the Code once since you've been here, Kate, and I can toss you to the side any time I want to. Your job is to help me kill the Alpha. Nothing more. Nothing less. You drag my daughter into this, and I will put you down _myself_. You understand me?"

A pause.

" _Answer_ him, Kate," That's her mother's voice, firm and cold, and Allison knows just how frightening her mother can be when she's angry. Whatever's going on, it's got her father and mother at odds with her aunt. Allison doesn't understand. Last night, her aunt freely admitted to shooting someone, called it a wolf, and now her father is talking about Codes and Alphas. Allison wonders if it has anything to do with the wolf on her necklace.

She rounds the corner, startling her family, and gives her dad a smile.

"Hey, Dad," She greets, and her father and mother's expressions immediately soften for her, "So, listen, you remember when I asked about those Old French translators we have? Well, I figured since Stiles hasn't had a chance to come over yet, I could take them to school with me and we can work on them during our free periods. Is that okay?"

"Well, I don't see why not," Victoria answers, brushing past her, "Will you need any help carrying them?"

"No, it's fine," Allison shrugs, "I'll just leave them in my locker until I actually need them."

Allison glances over at Kate, catching the dark gleam in her eyes, and she glances at her father, catching the angry one in his.

She'll find out sooner or later.

* * *

Stiles sighs through his nose as he tosses books, notebooks, and papers into his locker. He's worried for Lydia and Jackson, and he hasn't seen Scott since last night, either. He hasn't spoken to Derek, either, and he's pretty certain whatever attacked Jackson last night was the Alpha. 

He doesn't understand the pattern. The victims have no connection with one another; at least, no obvious connection. What's the point of attacking them? And he's not quite certain what it did to Jackson, either. It looked like his had a scratch on the back of his neck, but he couldn't see very well from his position in the cruiser, too far away.

Jackson had caught his eye, though, and the alpha nodded, letting Stiles know that it wasn't a human or an animal that had attacked him.

"Stiles."

Stiles glances over, locking eyes with Allison as she makes her way over to him, arms filled with old, thick books.

"Hey," He greets, and she smiles at him.

"Hey," She says back, somewhat playfully, "So, I convinced my dad to let me bring these translators to school. I've really been looking forward to going over them with you, but you haven't had a chance to come over, and, I figured since we share the same free period..."

"Oh, yeah," Stiles agrees, shooting her a grin, "That works. We could meet at the library."

"Cool," She smiles happily, glancing over the books in her hands. Stiles takes pity on her, the books looking extremely heavy, and he takes them from her, shoving them into his locker to be used later. She thanks him, telling him she'll see him during their free period before making her way to her first period class. Stiles prepares to do the same before he feels his phone go off in his pocket. He checks the message, from Scott, sighing at what he reads.

_skpng 2day_

_figurng stuf out_

Stiles purses his lips in understanding. Scott has been so paranoid that he'll lose control and harm someone, and the Alpha's actions are definitely not helping that paranoia. Stiles figures Scott is going to practice his self-control, as well as think things over. Scott doesn't want to be a werewolf, but he is, and there's nothing that can be done about it, and Scott needs to figure out what he's going to do from here. He needs to take his new role seriously, lest he really does lose control and hurt someone. He texts back, hoping Scott will be okay, because this is Scott and Scott is his best friend, and Stiles is supposed to take care of him, and he feels irritated because he can't take care of him now. Not with this problem.

_k_

* * *

"'Scent marking'," Allison reads over the translated notes she's jotted down, "'Also known as 'scenting', is an important behavior amongst wolves. It is the act of pressing parts of their body against strong-smelling parts of a packmate's body, applying their odor onto a packmate's. Due to their powerful sense of smell, wolves may become possessive over packmates and will react accordingly - scenting their packmates - should the packmate bring home any foreign scent, covering the foreign scent with their own'. Huh."

Allison suddenly smiles wide, glancing up at Stiles over the library desk, completely covered in Old French books, translators, notebooks, and papers, not a single space of just desk left over. Due to taking full courses of advanced classes, their free period lasts much longer than most - two full periods, two hours - giving them plenty of time to translate some of the books.

"So, why the interest in werewolves?" Allison asks, jotting down another note.

"Why not?" Stiles grins, "Werewolves are cool."

Allison shrugs, grinning back, "Well, they _are_ pretty cool. Cooler than vampires, I think."

"You know," Stiles mutters, "Most people would say otherwise."

"Please," Allison scoffs, "Why would you want to live forever, getting bored with humanity, when you can turn into an awesome animal? With claws and fangs and who knows what else?"

Stiles smirks, huffing in amusement, "True. Living forever, you'd have to get bored after awhile. Then again, you'd also have a chance to see how far humanity will go, like seeing how far technology and political and social issues advance. That'd be pretty cool, but you'd also have to wait years and years for that to happen, and you'd get bored in-between advancements. I would love to live to see the colonization of space, though; that'd be awesome. Then again, we'd probably just pollute and destroy those other planets, too, if we don't learn our lesson by the time we get the chance to live in space. It's sort of an undecided thing for me; fifty-fifty."

"Mm," Allison hums in agreement, shifting forward to take a look at one of the books further up the table, and the movement draws Stiles' attention to her necklace.

"What's that?" Stiles asks, pointing with his pen. Allison follows his movements, glancing down at her necklace before turning her attention back to him.

"Oh, well," Allison shrugs, "My Aunt Kate gave it to me for my birthday today. She said it was a family heirloom."

"Heirloom?" Stiles asks, attempting to keep the suspicion out of his voice. So, Kate's trying to pull Allison into the hunter game. Which means Scott is running out of time to tell Allison about his newfound (technically, it's been a couple of months, so not so new) werewolfishness, which means Stiles is going to be the one stuck cleaning up the fall out. Awesome. 

"Yeah, she actually told me I should look up our family history," Allison shrugs again, "I guess my ancestors did something great."

"You know," Stiles narrows his eyes, staring at the carving of the snarling wolf on the necklace, "That picture actually looks familiar."

Allison tilts her head, furrowing her brows in question, "Does it?"

"Yeah, it-" Stiles cuts himself off, digging through the mess of books on the library desk. He has seen that picture before, in his own research on werewolves, and he believes he saw a glimpse of it in one of these books. The picture is of a famous werewolf, he believes, but he can't quite remember.

"Ah, here it is," He states triumphantly, finding a drawing identical to the carving on Allison's necklace on the top page of one of the books, and Allison eagerly leans forward, curious about her family.

"'La Bête du Gévaudan'," Stiles reads, "'The Beast of Gevaudan, history's most famous, most powerful, most viscous werewolf. The Beast was unlike any werewolf ever seen before, as it had utilized dark magic to become a wolf rather than a Bite. The Beast terrorized the province of Gevaudan between 1764 and 1767, killing over a hundred people - some accounts say two hundred, some even say five hundred. The death toll rose so quickly that King Louis XV himself sent out his best hunters to deal with the Beast. One such hunter was named Argent'."

Allison quirks her lips, widening her eyes playfully, "So, my ancestors killed a werewolf, did they?"

"Looks like it," Stiles smirks, playing along with her teasing tone and pretending he doesn't notice the thoughtful look enter her eyes as she absentmindedly rubs a thumb over her necklace. Clearly, Allison suspects something about her family, and Stiles isn't going to discourage her from finding out. She deserves to know, he believes, but he'll respect Scott's wishes and wait for the alpha boy to tell her himself.

That doesn't mean Stiles can't encourage her to find out a few things for herself, though.

And if Kate's encouraging her? Then Stiles will make sure she gets the proper information. There's no way he's letting some psychopathic arsonist sink her claws into Allison; he happens to _like_ Allison, thank you very much, and Kate can go suck on a lemon.

"You know," Allison suddenly grins, "It's kind of funny, right? I mean, one of these books said that silver hurting werewolves is a myth. But, Argent is French for silver and if my ancestors hunted a werewolf, that means the Argents are the silver that hurts the wolves, right?"

Stiles smirks, because this beta has absolutely no idea how on the mark she actually is, and he says teasingly, "Only you, Katniss, would come from a werewolf hunting family."

Allison snorts, laughing a little has she turns her attention back to the translators. 

"Stiles!"

Stiles and Allison turn their attention to the new presence, and Stiles smirks as Isaac completely ignores the librarians orders to be quiet. Isaac sets a few papers down on their table, and Stiles removes his bag from the chair so that Isaac can have a place to sit, and the fellow omega immediately takes the offer.

"What's up?" Stiles asks, taking a hold of the papers and looking them over.

Isaac rolls his eyes, "Coach wanted me to give you his new strategies because he wants you to go over them."

"Coach Finstock?" Allison asks, brows furrowed in confusion, "He has you look at lacrosse strategies? I didn't know there was an omega lacrosse team."

"There's not," Isaac shrugs, "But, Stiles is on the cross country team, and Coach is practically in love with him because he's his fastest runner, so Coach pretty much milks it. Stiles got dragged into being Coach's secretary, which, by the way, I don't appreciate being dragged into it myself."

"But, Isaac," Stiles smirks, flipping through the pages, "It builds character."

Isaac rolls his eyes, and Allison snorts.

"So, what's all this stuff?" Isaac asks, looking over the covered table in what is almost interest, but not quite, and Stiles knows Isaac is only asking to be courteous. 

"A pet project," Allison smiles, "Which Stiles _also_ dragged me into."

"He drags people into a lot of things, I see," Isaac states blandly, and Stiles grins at him over the papers, trying to pull back from showing too much teeth, knowing from experience that people see it as threatening. Stiles actually feels a little proud. Normally, Isaac is jumpy and quiet and nervous and scared of everything, but he's opened up some since Stiles dragged him off to the field with him the day after Scott got Bit. Stiles wonders if it has anything to do with Coach Finstock's antics, and he thinks it probably does; Coach is not the kind of person that will let you be; you're really not _allowed_ to be shy around him.

Suddenly, there's a thud and shriek, and the three jump from their desks in alarm. They notice the librarian staring off to the side in horror, and the three follow her line of sight. What they see causes them to quickly rush into action, running over to the fallen student convulsing on the floor. 

Erica, Stiles thinks, knowing exactly who she is. Stiles knows her, sees her a lot, and he knows that her epilepsy is quite severe and causes her to react at the most seemingly random of things. There's already a student there, attempting to help her, and Stiles immediately recognizes Vernon Boyd anywhere. Vernon is big and intimidating and he's always alone, but Stiles knows that he's truly a nice person willing to lend a hand, especially to his fellow outcasts.

"Watch her head," Stiles immediately orders as he, Isaac, and Allison kneel next to Erica, Allison taking a comforting hold of one of the girl's hands, "If her seizure gets too violent, she could hit her head."

Boyd takes heed of his advice, gently holding Erica's head still in both his hands as Stiles quickly dials for an ambulance on his cell. He can't help but feel a spark of anger at the librarian, surprising himself. She's working at a school; she should be trained in how to deal with emergencies involving the students. Then again, Stiles is giving Beacon Hills High too much credit; it's not like this school does proper background checks on their staff. Or trains them at all, for that matter.

He glances up at the crowd of moronic gawkers before rolling his eyes and tapping Allison on the shoulder. The beta girl glances over at him, pausing in her whispered words of comfort, before following his line of sight. Stiles smirks as her gaze darkens, knowing full well just how badass Allison can really be, and the student attempting to film Erica's situation flinches. Allison doesn't look away until the boy slowly and hesitantly puts his phone back in his pocket, and she makes a mental note to have Danny hack into it and remove what little he did manage to film.

"911, what's your emergency?"

* * *

School remains mellow throughout the rest of the day, no more excitement or emergencies to deal with. Stiles still hasn't caught sight of Jackson, and he wonders if the alpha boy even came into school that day. Stiles wouldn't blame him if he didn't, especially if whatever happened resulted in an injury, and Stiles wonders if Jackson opted to stay home with Lydia today.

His question is answered in chemistry, though.

"Just a friendly reminder," Harris states, "Parent-teacher conferences are tonight. Students below a C average are required to attend. I won't name you because the shame and self- _disgus_ t should be more than enough punishment."

Stiles snorts in amusement, and Harris' attention is quickly drawn to him at the sound. The alpha man crosses his arms, attempting to look more intimidating than he actually is, and Stiles lifts his brows at him.

"Has anyone seen Scott McCall?" Harris asks, though his attention is solely on Stiles.

Stiles shrugs, "Do I look like his keeper?"

"I don't know, Mr. Stilinski," Harris snips, "You tell me. Has the separation anxiety become too much for you yet?"

"Mr. Harris," Stiles begins, voice sweet, smiling with too much teeth, "I understand that the sheriff has some dirt on you that could put you away, and I don't think making his kid miserable is really the best way to go about preventing that from happening. And, you're supposed to be smart, you know."

There are some quiet giggles, and Stiles smirks as Harris visibly swallows his frustration. Before their banter can continue, however, the door opens and Jackson steps inside. Stiles furrows his brows at the sight of him, taking in the bandages on the back of his neck and the paleness of his skin. Jackson looks sick, and Stiles wonders if the alpha had nightmares after the attack. 

Stiles rolls his eyes as Harris comforts him, telling him he can leave for 'any reason at all'. Stiles could bleed from his eyes, and Harris would tell him to go find a band-aid. Jackson merely nods at Harris a little before taking his usual seat next to Stiles. Jackson breathes in and out deeply once before glancing over at Stiles.

"The Alpha?" Stiles whispers.

"Definitely," Jackson answers.

"Lydia?"

"If she didn't want to believe it before, she'll definitely have to now."

"So, you're going to tell her?"

"Yeah," Jackson shrugs, "She deserves to know after this."

"Right," Stiles nods in agreement, "She stayed home today."

"She wouldn't talk," Jackson whispers, and if Stiles had been anyone else, he wouldn't have noticed the worry in Jackson's voice, but Stiles _is_ Stiles and Stiles notices things, "She was just in total shock. Catatonic. The doctor gave her some pills for anxiety, but I don't know if she's responsive yet. I haven't had the chance to see her today."

"But, you will after school."

"Yeah," Jackson states, "I'm gonna tell her everything you told me."

"Of course," Stiles nods.

* * *

It's when school ends that Scott finally decides to call Stiles, and Stiles immediately answers as he throws his bag over his shoulder, making his way through the halls.

"So," Stiles begins, "Have you figured things out?"

"I dunno," Scott murmurs, "I've been... practicing. I've been running through the woods and the old beach. I went cliff diving, too. It was actually... it was pretty fun. I've been getting better at controlling the wolf, and I've been thinking, too."

"Never a good sign," Stiles smirks, and Scott huffs.

"Yeah, well... Derek said that there was no known cure, so... I'm stuck like this, and it scared me for awhile, but Derek also said that we're predators, but we don't have to be killers. This whole time, I've been so worried that I'd be forced to hurt someone, but... we don't _have_ to do that. I'm not a killer, Stiles, and I don't have to be. I don't need to be to be a werewolf."

"Right," Stiles smiles a little. He knows Scott's number one worry about being a wolf was harming people, especially people he cares about. Stiles thinks that might be the biggest reason Scott's been rejecting his wolf; he fears that, by accepting it, he has to accept being a killer. But, like Derek said, he doesn't have to be. All he has to do is worry about practicing, keeping his wolf sated, gaining control, keeping his human side the dominant side. He doesn't have to worry about hunting or killing, just being, and Stiles hopes that Scott figures himself out; because this is Scott and Scott is his best friend, and Stiles is supposed to take care of him, mentally and physically, and Stiles knows that, in this situation, there's not much he can do; this is a problem only Scott can solve.

"Listen, I'm gonna keep practicing for awhile, okay? I'll see you later, though, right?"

"Of course."

* * *

Stiles holds back a smirk when Mrs. Reyes nearly jumps back in shock at the sight of them when she answers the door. Stiles supposes Erica doesn't really have a lot of a people to care about her, especially not visit her after one of her convulsions. He watches as Mrs. Reyes takes the three of them in, Stiles, hands in his pockets, Allison, holding a small tupperware, and Isaac, holding a handful of balloons, and he watches as suspicion enters her eyes.

"Hello," Stiles greets, "I'm Stiles; this is Allison and Isaac. We go to school with Erica and we were there for her seizure today. We were wondering if we could come see her; we've been kind of worried since she left in the ambulance."

"I brought éclairs!" Allison adds with a bright smile, shaking the tupperware a little.

"And I brought balloons," Isaac pitches in, holding up the hand with balloons briefly.

There's a long, somewhat awkward pause as Mrs. Reyes stares at them, the suspicion morphed into something akin to shock, and then the omega woman stutters a bit, "Oh, well... well let me just go see if she's up to it."

The woman disappears behind the door, and the beta girl and two omega boys wait patiently for her to return. She isn't gone too long, and she returns to tell them that they can go see Erica, but only for a short while as the girl is still a bit out of it and exhausted. The group voices their understanding before following Mrs. Reyes into the modest home. The three enter a little cautiously, not wanting to just barge into someone else's room, and they watch as Erica pauses what appears to be _The Dark Knight_ , and Stiles smiles knowingly.

She looks awful, hair flat and lifeless, heavy bags under red-rimmed eyes, and she looks up at them with caution and suspicion. Stiles doesn't blame her.

"Hello," Allison immediately takes the lead, "I don't know if you know us, but I'm Allison, and this is Isaac and Stiles. I don't know if you remember, but we were there when you collapsed, and we've been really worried. We just wanted to check up on you, make sure you were feeling better. Oh, I brought éclairs for you. You don't have any allergies do you?"

Erica's brows had lifted throughout Allison's cheerful rambling, and she blinks at Allison's sudden question and pause. Erica shakes her head, opened up a bit, but still cautious, and Allison happily hands her the tupperware. Erica opens up the tupperware, looking at the three rows of neatly lined éclairs, each row iced a different color - one brown, one white, and one a tan-ish color.

"I made three different custard flavors for you," Allison smiles, taking a seat next to Erica on the bed, and Erica blinks at her in shock, as if she can't believe this beautiful beta girl is willing to get so close to her, and Stiles takes note of the not-so-good reaction, "Vanilla - a definite classic - chocolate, and coffee. I probably should've asked, though, coffee's not the most popular éclair flavor in my house, so..."

"No," Erica finally croaks out, the omega girl blinking down at the pastries, "No, I love coffee candies."

"Awesome," Allison smiles brightly, "Oh, Isaac brought some balloons for you. Stiles said that you like comic books, so we got a combination of DC and Marvel balloons."

Erica blinks at the balloons, mouth going a little slack, and she slowly and hesitantly takes the balloons from Isaac when the omega boy gives her a small smile and offers them to her. She takes in the pictures of Batman, Robin, the Joker, Green Arrow, Speedy, Ironman, Hawkeye, and the Black Widow on the balloons, and she looks over at Stiles.

"You... know my favorite characters..." She says, voice somewhat hollow in her shock.

Stiles' lips twitch, "Well," He smirks, "We just so happen to share favorite characters. Who needs fancy powers to be a hero, right? Team Human, all the way."

Allison shoots Erica another smile, taking in the sight of the omega girl's overwhelmed expression, and Allison immediately understands that Erica doesn't have a lot of people outside of her family that truly care about her. Stiles knows this, too, because he notices things that others don't and he's always known that Erica is in and out of the hospital because of her seizures; he couldn't bring himself to care before, but, now, seeing Allison and her reaction, Stiles adds Erica onto his mental list of people worth giving a shit about. 

"So, get this," Allison grins conspiratorially and a little evilly, and Erica blinks at her again, "There was this total loser that tried to film you, so you know what Stiles and I did? We went to our hacker friend, you know Danny Mahealani? And we got him to hack into his phone and delete the video. And Danny, sweet, sweet Danny, actually found this _amazing_ video of him and uploaded it in place of your video. Oh, he's _definitely_ going to be the star of the school come tomorrow."

Erica blinks at her again, this time in complete shock, and Stiles can see her eyes moisten a bit, "You did that for me...?"

"Of course," Allison scoffs playfully, "He deserves a taste of his own medicine; it's the best way to get people to stop bullying. They always say 'ignore them and they'll get bored'. But, it's so not true, it just makes them try harder. I have found that they respond best to understanding; learning what it feels like to be on the other side of the equation. Besides, no one deserves to be humiliated over a medical condition. People are just idiots that can't see how strong you are."

Erica stares at her in astonishment, and she glances around, looking up at Stiles and Isaac, who merely shoot her a smile, before she turns her attention back to Allison, whispering, "You think I'm strong?"

Allison catches onto her tone, and she looks Erica in the eye, giving a firm nod, voice somewhat hoarse, "Yeah."

She continues, her voice firmer, "You go to school everyday, probably dreading it, probably scared out of your mind, but you still go and you ignore all the stupid looks people send you and you have enough attitude to hold your head high through it. My dad always says that being brave doesn't mean you don't fear, it means you push forward despite your fears, and that's exactly what you do, and that makes you strong."

"You notice that much about me..." Erica whispers again, and the beta girl and the two omega boys give her a small smile, and Allison pats her hand in support.

"Of course," Allison smiles, "You're not invisible."

Erica truly looks ready to cry by then, and Stiles, insensitive as it is, really hopes she doesn't. He can't deal with crying, never has been good at it, and he's not suddenly going to be good at it just because he happens to like Erica. He's saved from her crying, though, when Mrs. Reyes comes in to tell Erica she has a new visitor, and Stiles blinks in pleasant surprise at the sight of Boyd. The large beta boy has the biggest stuffed dog in his hands that Stiles has ever seen, and he grins when he notices Erica looking up at Boyd like the beta boy is the one that makes the sun rise everyday.

Allison must notice, too, because she shoots Stiles a knowing smile before she rises from the bed.

"Well," Allison states brightly, "We should probably get going. Stiles wanted me to meet a friend of his today."

"That's right," Stiles smiles, removing a piece of paper from his pocket, "But, look, I've got everyone's numbers written down. They are yours to do with as you wish."

Erica takes the paper from him, looking down at it, and her lips twitch as if she's trying to hold back a smile.

"I should probably go, too," Isaac states, "My dad needs me to dig today, so..."

"That's right, you and your dad own the cemetery, don't you?" Allison asks, and Stiles ignores the ping of annoyance that enters his chest when he realizes that Isaac's wonderful father is probably going to have him dig all night long.

"Yeah," Isaac shrugs, making his way to the door, shooting Erica a small smile, "I hope you get better soon, Erica."

"Bye," Erica waves absentmindedly, and Stiles and Allison smile as the omega girl takes the stuffed dog from Boyd, holding it as if it were the most precious of gems, and Boyd gives her a small smile of his own, a beta of few words.

"We'll see you later, Erica," Allison smiles, "You can keep the tupperware. Text us sometime."

She and Stiles excite the room, Erica waving and telling them goodbye before the blonde omega quickly turns her attention back to Boyd as the large beta takes a seat next to her on the bed, and Allison's smile widens when she hears Erica giggle as they leave. Erica and Boyd will be a thing. It will happen, or Allison will be very upset and she'll take drastic measures to make it happen. 

Like go to Lydia.

Lydia will definitely make it happen.

* * *

"So," Allison starts as she gets comfortable in the passenger seat of Stiles' jeep, "Who is this friend you wanted me to meet?"

"Technically," Stiles says, shifting the steering wheel to make a sharp turn, "I want you to groom him."

Allison furrows her brows, voice incredulous, "Groom him?"

Stiles shoots her a smirk, "You'll see."

* * *

Jackson follows Mrs. Martin into Lydia's room, and the omega woman hesitantly opens the door, calling out, "Lydia? Jackson's here to see you."

Lydia, sprawled out on the bed, head in her hand, observing her nails, pauses, eyes narrowed, "Jack. _Son._ "

Jackson looks at Mrs. Martin, raising a brow, and the woman smiles back nervously, "She, um. She took a little something to calm her nerves. You can, you can go in."

Jackson shrugs, walking inside as Mrs. Martin closes the door behind him, and when his movements catch Lydia's attention, he murmurs, "Hey, Lydia."

She places a hand on her hip, looking haughty even with her makeup ruined and her hair wild, sprawled over the bed haphazardly, "What're you doing here?"

"I was just making sure you were okay," Jackson shrugs, and Lydia narrows her eyes thoughtfully, smacking her lips in a rather unattractive manner before she shoots him a questioning look and pats the empty space on the bed in invitation.

"Why?" She shrugs.

"Well, I was worried about you today," Jackson answers truthfully, taking her offer to set next to her, and Lydia smiles, throwing a hand onto his arm, "How are you feeling?"

She leans up closer than necessary, smiling widely, "I feel.... _fantastic_."

Jackson stares at her for a long moment before he glances at her end table, catching sight of the pill bottle. He leans forward and snatches it, reading the contents and his brows shoot up. He shoots Lydia a pointed look, "I bet you can't say 'I saw Suzy selling seashells by the seashore ten times fast."

Lydia shoots him a superior look, haughtily tossing her hair over her shoulder, "I saw Shuzy..."

Jackson raises a brow.

"I shaw..."

He snorts, rolling his eyes and returning the pill bottle to its place on the dresser.

"I saw..."

He glances at Lydia, a wakening gleam in her eyes, and he immediately reacts, "What, Lydia? What did you see?"

"I saw... something...." Lydia stares at the wall, gaze far away, and Jackson knows that she's reliving the moment she saw the Alpha.

"Was it... something like... a mountain lion?" Jackson encourages, but when her gaze turns empty once again, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. 

"A mountain lion," She agrees.

"Are you sure?" Jackson presses.

"A mountain lion," She repeats.

"Are you saying it was a mountain lion because that's what you saw or because that's what the police told you, you saw?" Jackson demands, voice a bit more irritated because they are getting nowhere. He came here to tell her about werewolves and the Alpha and the hunters, and he can't do that if she's high as shit and repeating police statements.

"A mountain lion."

Jackson rolls his eyes, snatching a stuffed giraffe from her end table and holding it up, "What is _this_ , Lydia?"

She slowly turns to it, taking it in, before stating blandly, "A mountain lion."

Jackson purses his lips and rolls his eyes again before returning the stuffed animal to her end table. That's when her phone goes off, and he snatches it before she even seems to realize it vibrated, and he opens it up. 

He lips go slack, watching the video of the beast as it suddenly freezes.

He looks up at Lydia and her goofy smile, and swallows before he restarts the video, "Are you _sure_ it was a mountain lion, Lydia?"

Lydia watches the video and her vacant gaze slowly clears as she stares at the screen. Her lips purse and her brows furrow in worry, and she glances up and catches Jackson's eyes, a hint of fear in her own.

"What is _this_ , Lydia?"

"...Were...wolf..."

* * *

Allison hesitantly follows Stiles into the hospital room, hands filled with a shaving kit and a hair kit taken from the dashboard compartment of Stiles' jeep. She furrows her brows, looking around the room, seeing nothing there. She shrieks in surprise, though, clutching the two kits close to her face, when she turns the corner to see a prone man in a wheelchair behind the door.

"Jesus," Stiles grunts, holding back an amused snort, "How the hell do you creep up on someone while you're in a coma?"

Allison blinks out of her stupor, taking in the sight of the dark haired man limply sitting in a wheelchair. His eyes are open, and they're blank and dead in a way that make Allison's chest tighten. She quickly reacts, marching her way over to the man.

"What, do the nurses just stick him in the corner like this?" She mutters, brows furrowed in a bit of irritation, and she grabs the handles of the chair and moves him further into the room, "Why don't they put him by the window so he can feel the sun and see something more interesting than a _wall_?"

Stiles grins, his decision to allow Allison to meet Peter validated by this reaction. When he made the decision to bring her here, it was in hopes that she would come to like Peter, and Derek by extension, putting him one step ahead of her family in gaining Allison's loyalty.

Plus, Allison is the better choice in giving Peter a haircut. There's no way in hell Stiles _wouldn't_ destroy the man's hair.

"This is what you meant by grooming?" Allison asks, voice somewhat teasing as she looks over Peter's shaggy hair and beard, "Are you sure it's okay? What if they don't shave him because it irritates his scars?"

"Nah, it's fine," Stiles answers, taking out a small sheet from the hair kit and wrapping it around Peter's shoulders, "I've already asked; it's perfectly okay."

"If you're sure," Allison says, grabbing a small comb and running it through Peter's hair, "So, who is he, anyway?"

"You remember my friend, Derek?" Stiles asks, taking a seat on Peter's hospital bed and watching Allison work.

"The one Scott got into a fight with?" Allison guesses, "They made up, though, right?"

Stiles snorts, "Yeah, him. This is his uncle, Peter Hale."

Allison pauses, "Hale?"

Stiles shoots her a look, though she doesn't seem to notice, more focused on Peter than him, "You know the name?"

"Yeah, I mean," Allison shrugs a little, "I'm still a bit new here, even if it's been a couple months, but the Hales are a bit of a legend around town. It's just something that everyone knows, you know? That they were in an accident, what, six years ago?"

"Yeah," Stiles shrugs, "I suppose that makes sense. I mean, the Hales practically founded this town, so the name's pretty big. It's no surprise that everyone would know what happened eventually."

"What _did_ happen?" Allison asks, taking a hold of a small, thin pair of scissors, "I mean, I know there was an accident, but I don't know any of the details. I just know that... a lot people didn't make it."

"Yeah, um..." Stiles flicks a tongue over his lips to wet them, "Well, about six years ago, I remember my dad had taken off in the middle of the night; he had gotten an emergency call. I actually had to be taken to the station, you know, my dad couldn't exactly find a babysitter on such short notice. But, anyway, it was a fire. My dad said, once, that he was a first responder, and the fire had already taken way over half the house. It took a long time to put the fire out, too, and the only one still breathing was Peter."

"That's terrible," Allison gasps, brows furrowed, "Did they find out what happened?"

"No, um," Stiles shrugs, shaking his head a bit, somewhat annoyed, because, honestly, the investigation of the fire was mediocre at best, and Derek is the person he likes, so Stiles thinks he should probably be upset on his behalf, "They labeled it an accident, but... they did suspect arson. I mean, fire spreads fast, but an accidental fire wouldn't spread as quickly as the Hale Fire did without an accelerator. Plus, my dad said that the blueprints of the house didn't match where the fire started; they said it was an electric fire, but there were no outlets or anything at the starting point of the fire, so..."

Allison shakes her head, looking upset as she snips at Peter's hair, "I don't understand... the thought process of someone who decides to just suddenly burn some poor family alive."

"It's crazy," Stiles agrees, sighing, and he looks over Allison's work. Peter's hair is much shorter now, more well groomed, and Allison has it combed back in an almost posh manner, and Stiles grins when he realizes how well the look suits Peter. He wonders if Peter is the kind of man with one of those American gentlemen accents. He looks it.

Allison finishes brushing out all of the extra hair before setting the comb and scissors aside. She looks over her work and smiles proudly before turning her attention to the shaving kit. She walks around in order to face Peter, inspecting him as she unpacks the kit.

"What kind of facial hair would suit him...?" She mumbles, mostly to herself, and Stiles raises a brow.

"I figured you were just gonna shave him," He says.

"Mmm," Allison hums thoughtfully, looking Peter over with narrow eyes, "No... a lot of facial hair doesn't suit him, but I don't think being clean shaven would, either.... so, a thin layer would work better for him. Oh, what about the villain look?"

Stiles huffs out an amused sound, "The villain look?"

"Yeah," Allison smiles, spreading the shaving cream over Peter's face as gently as she can, afraid to irritate his scars in any way, "You know, like in all those action movies where the villain has the really thin goattee and mustache? I think it would look good on Peter, with a few touch ups, that is...."

"Go for it," Stiles smiles, "I think he'll just be happy to be rid of the caveman face."

"I think _anyone_ would," Allison mumbles, her focus entirely on Peter, moving the razor slowly, gently, and precisely out of fear of screwing up, "If it's okay to shave him, then why don't the nurses do their jobs? Seriously, do they just let him rot in here or something?"

"You have no idea..." Stiles mumbles.

They allow silence to reign as Allison works, and Stiles hopes that Allison doesn't accidentally cut him with the razor; the accelerated healing isn't exactly something that can be explained. Then again, Stiles thinks, gazing over Peter's scars, his healing is probably weakened because of the state he's in. It's more than likely the only reason those scars are even still there. Stiles wonders if the scars were worse a few years ago, if his healing is simply slowed down to human speed because of his weakened body. He wonders if they will finally heal if and when he wakes, if being conscious has any affect on a werewolf's healing process.

He's cut out of his musings when Allison brightly announces that she's finished, and Stiles grins when he goes over Peter's new look. Allison was right, the thin layer of facial hair definitely suits him, and Stiles takes out his phone to take a picture to show Derek later. A thought enters his head, and he heads over to the window as Allison cleans up and packs up the two kits, opening it up. He takes Peter's wheelchair and pushes it closer to the window, and he hopes that Peter will be able to smell the outside even in his sleep, taking in scents other than this stuffy hospital smell.

As he and Allison get ready to leave, Stiles pauses, thinking over what they learned about werewolves and scenting, and he heads back over to Peter. He hesitates for a moment, but he gives Peter a light hug from behind, letting his neck slide against Peter's briefly before following Allison out of the room, becking Peter goodbye for now.

Neither notice the way Peter's eyes flash a bright, blood red.

* * *

"Werewolves, Jackson," Lydia murmurs crazily, and Jackson holds her hand, quickly patting it in an attempt to calm her down, "Werewolves. Werewolves are real. Scott McCall is a werewolf. Oh _god_ , Jackson, werewolves...!"

"Lydia, Lydia," Jackson tries, "Lydia, it's okay."

"No," Lydia whines, "No, Jackson, werewolves! Werewolves, Jackson...!"

There's a sudden wheeze-like gasp and she falls back limply against the bed, and Jackson purses his lips in annoyance.

"Okay," He mumbles, taking a hold of her and lifting her bridal-style, "Okay, we're gonna go see Stiles."

"What the hell... is a Stiles...?" She murmurs drowsily, and Jackson rolls his eyes, making his way out of the room with her.

Thank god her parents already left.

* * *

When Stiles gets home after dropping Allison off just in time to catch her parents leaving for the conference, he starts at the sight of Derek. Stiles sighs in frustration, being surprised one of his many pet peeves because he can't stand it when control is taken away from him, but he stops short before he says anything, looking Derek over. Derek looks awful, a bit pale, and Stiles takes a cautious step forward.

"Derek...?" He asks quietly, and Derek glances up at him from his seat on Stiles' living room couch, "Are you okay...?"

Derek sighs sharply through his nose, looking back down at his tightly clasped hands, "Yeah, I'm just... just a bit angry."

"About...?" Stiles asks, dropping his bag by the door and walking toward Derek a bit further. Derek simply shakes his head, and Stiles rolls his eyes at his unwillingness to speak, taking a seat next to him. Derek's brows furrow, and he looks Stiles over for a moment, and Stiles raises his brows, looking himself over in an attempt to find whatever anomaly Derek sees.

"You smell like Peter," Derek mumbles.

"Oh, yeah," Stiles smiles, fishing his phone from his pocket and surfing for his most recent picture, "Allison and I went to go see him today. We decided he probably wouldn't appreciate the whole caveman thing the nurses had going for him when he wakes up, so we gave him a cut. See?"

Derek stares at the picture of Peter, hair combed back, lightly stubbled, looking just like he did before the fire with scars added into the mix, and he swallows thickly, "You did that for him...?"

"Yeah," Stiles murmurs, catching Derek's eye, "He's alone, Derek, and he doesn't deserve that. Not after what happened to him. And he's your family, and I like you, and by extension, I like your family, too."

There's a long pause as the two simply stare at one another, and, any other time, Stiles would become uncomfortable with the silent staring and glare until the staring party bows in submission. Now, though, he swallows his nerves and leans forward, pressing his lips to Derek's. Derek doesn't react at first, but after a brief hesitation, he kisses back. Stiles has never kissed anyone before, so he's clumsy and awkward, but Derek makes it better, so he follows the older man's lead. Lips smack from the suction, and Stiles nervously brushes his hand over Derek's arm, while Derek takes a hold of his hip. It's when Derek starts leaning forward, Stiles leaning back, that Derek snaps out of it.

"Wait-" He murmurs against Stiles' lips, "Wait, wait, hang on."

Derek suddenly backs up, and Stiles raises an irritated brow at him, "What?"

"It's, I can't," Derek sighs, roughly brushing a hand over his hair and snapping to his feet, "I can't do this."

Stiles sits up, voice becoming a bit threatening, and Derek understands that Stiles took his words the wrong way, "And why not?"

"It's not-"

"I swear to god if you say 'it's not you, it's me', I will _shove_ the wolfsbane you gave me _down_ your _throat_ ," Stiles snaps.

"Okay, alright," Derek stammers, holding his hands up in surrender, "It's not, it's not that, it's-"

Derek cuts himself off, sighing sharply, and lets himself fall back onto the couch. He swallows thickly, and Stiles furrows his brows, suddenly realizing just how nervous Derek actually looks, and he sits up a bit to face him better.

"I never told you," Derek suddenly states, "What happened between me and Kate."

"I'm sorry," Stiles snips, smiling meanly, "Something _'happened'_ between you?"

"She..." Derek swallows again, staring at a speck of dust in the corner of the room, "She was my substitute teacher. She offered to tutor me. I thought... I thought she was just being nice, you know? I didn't know she was an Argent, I had no idea who she was. But, then, it... things changed, and..."

"She seduced you," Stiles whispers, and Derek flinches. Stiles furrows his brows, partly angry, partly concerned; angry because of the sheer _gall_ that woman had and still has, concerned because this is Derek and Derek is the person he likes and Derek is telling him that he blames himself for his family's death, and that is  _not_ okay, "Derek, that's not... that's not your fault. You were just a kid, and you didn't know who she was. How were you supposed to know that your teacher was a _hunter_? They don't exactly advertise it."

"That's just it, though," Derek murmurs, shooting him a pointed look, "I was a _kid_."

Stiles narrows his eyes at him, curling his lips in a not-so-nice smile, because Derek is the first person he's liked and Derek is telling him that being with him will make him just like Kate, and Stiles wants to _maim_ him for it, "Derek. I swear to god. If you are comparing yourself to her, I will _beat_ you."

"I'm a grown man making out with an underage omega," Derek snaps, voice gruff, but Stiles isn't intimidated, "Sounds a bit like something she would do."

"Do you like me?" Stiles suddenly asks, and Derek snaps his attention to him in surprise.

"Well," Derek stammers, but answers truthfully, "Yeah. Yeah, I do, I think... you're great, and I do like you."

"Okay," Stiles says, "Are you lying to me?"

"What? No, of course not," Derek exclaims.

"Are you using me?"

"No!"

"Are you going to betray me? Are you going to go behind my back and hurt people I care about?"

"No, Stiles, just," Derek snaps before sighing tiredly, rubbing a hand over his eyes, "I know what you're doing."

"Just answer me," Stiles demands.

Derek sighs again, "No. No, I wouldn't hurt anyone you care about."

"Then I don't see how you're like her," Stiles shrugs, and it's true, because Derek, for all that he hides behind violence and anger, is not cruel, but caring, and Stiles will beat it into him until he sees, "Literally, the only example you have to compare yourself to her with is our age gap, and even then, it's not as big as hers and yours was. You care about me, right? You don't want to use me or hurt me, and I doubt you'd be happy about hurting me. You're nothing like her. At all. Just... just don't think about her."

Derek is quiet, and Stiles shoots him a small smile, sliding up next to him, knowing from many recent experiences with Scott that werewolves are tactile, and he tells him about things he doesn't like to tell anyone else, "You know, my dad was ten years older than my mom, and they met when she was still in school."

Derek glances at him with surprise in his eyes, and Stiles just shrugs a bit, "Granted, he waited for her to turn eighteen and graduate, but still. Age gaps shouldn't matter if the younger party has the mental maturity to make these kinds of decisions. Now, do you think I have the mental maturity of an average sixteen-year-old?"

Stiles raises his brows pointedly, daringly, because if Derek says yes, Stiles may end up doing something drastic, but Derek just huffs, "No, I don't. You're smarter than that. More cunning. A bit ruthless, too. You're not the kind of person to not know what they want or do something they're unsure of."

"You like that I'm ruthless, though," Stiles shoots him a grin, a hint of teeth showing, a hint of violence hidden beneath the sweetness, and Derek's lips twitch and he wonders, again, why he finds the well-hidden craziness so beautiful on Stiles.

"I do," Derek murmurs truthfully, and Stiles smiles, softer this time, leaning forward to re-initiate their kiss, but Derek suddenly stops again, backing up and looking a bit nervous once more.

"But, wait," He says, and Stiles rolls his eyes, because Jesus Christ, what now?

"What?" He asks, voice low with annoyance, brows raised.

"What about your dad?"

"Derek, he's gone. There's a parent-teacher conference, and he won't be home for awhile."

Stiles tries once more, and Derek leans away. _Again._

"But, wait-"

"What?" Stiles snaps.

This is his first kiss, _dammit_ , and Derek is _ruining_ it.

"What if you go into heat or something?" Derek asks, looking genuinely concerned over the scenario, and Stiles shoots him the most pointed look he can, because he wants Derek to know _exactly_ how plain _stupid_ he thinks that question is.

"I'm not gonna spontaneously burst into heat, _Derek_ ," Stiles snips, his tone of voice displaying just how fed up he is, "Besides, I've already had my heat this month. I'm good."

An omega's heats were fickle things. Precursors to periods, they happened once a month without a set schedule. Sometimes, they could happen during the first week of the month, in the middle of the month, or the last week of the month; there's no telling. The omega in question will go into a pre-heat the week the heat was to happen, but the pre-heats weren't so bad that the omega would have to miss work or school; they can simply take some scent suppressants and put on a slick pad or slick tampon and be on their way. The actual heat will force them to stay home, not only because of the powerful scent, which cannot be hidden by suppressants, but because of the symptoms. Mood swings, overheating, cramps, increased slick production, etc. The heat, as in the increased body temperature, is enough to drive anyone up the wall. Contrary to urban legends, though, the heating omega, while they do have a very large increase in sex drive, are _not_ raging, horny beasts looking for anyone to mount them. They don't _crave_ a knot. The urban legend of omegas looking for anyone to knot them comes from the fact that an alpha's knot produces hormones that actually soothe the ache of an omega's heat. However, omegas don't _need_ it. They can go through their heats on their own, without a partner, or even with a beta or another omega, without any problems whatsoever.

The heats themselves can last from three, to five, to twelve, to twenty-four hours. The longest known heat lasted seventy-two hours, and Stiles gives his sympathies to anyone who has to go through that for three freaking days. Have heat suppressants been tried? Yes, with horrendous results. Trying to stop a heat is like trying to stop a bowl movement or a period - painful and unhealthy, and it will only make it far worse later on, and is most definitely not recommended by health experts.

Stiles' own heats usually only last the minimum - around three hours, sometimes five - and then he starts leaking blood, it's over, and he's at school the next day, right as rain. And, like he said, he's already had his heat this month, so he's good.

"But, wait-"

"Derek," Stiles snaps, finally unable to take it anymore, "I swear to god, just shut up and make out with me."

Derek stares at him at the blatant words, brows raised, lips twitching in what appears to be an attempt to hold back an amused expression. He lets Stiles pull him back in, though, and they pick up where they left off. Stiles, though, is annoyed and frustrated at Derek's constant interruptions, and he bites down on Derek's bottom lip in revenge. Derek growls something deep and low and inhuman, but Stiles only smiles into the kiss, because Derek needs to know that Stiles is not intimidated by his animal. The kiss is long and slow, but it's not as deep as it could be, because Stiles knows that Derek is a secret gentlemen, even if the gruff won't ever admit it, and it's a bit awkward and clumsy, too, because this is Stiles' first kiss (the first one doesn't count, _thank_ you, _Derek_ ) and Stiles isn't used to this, but still, Derek takes the lead and makes everything better, and it makes Stiles a little dizzy.

Stiles can't help it. He giggles - honest to god _giggles_ like one of those frilly little omega school kids - into the kiss.  Because he's happy. Because Derek is the first person he's ever liked, and Derek likes him back, and now they're kissing, and nothing can ruin Stiles' good mood today.

Except for, maybe, a knock on the door.

Stiles breaks away from the kiss, letting his head fall back against the arm of the couch with an annoyed sigh. He rolls his eyes before rolling out from underneath Derek and off the couch, stalking his way to the door, not noticing Derek leaning back, lips twitching into a small grin, rubbing a thumb over his chin in smug amusement and joyfulness.

Stiles opens the door, ready to snap, but stops short.

"Lydia," He states, honestly surprised, "Jackson. What's going on?"

Lydia looks awful, makeup smudged, hair wild, wearing revealing blue pajamas. There's something in her eyes, too, and Stiles knows that she's still reeling from shock. She opens her mouth to say something, but glances to the side just in time to catch sight of Derek.

"You," She states, gently pushing Stiles to the side and walking inside the house, loosely pointing a finger at Derek, "You're Derek Hale."

There's a long pause before Lydia says what she really wants to say, "You're a werewolf."

Stiles and Derek look back at Jackson, and Jackson nods in confirmation. Stiles takes Lydia's arm, ushering her to take a seat on one of the couches, and she looks up at him, and Stiles has never seen Lydia look so small before, so scared and unsure. So, he gives her a small smile, taking a seat next to her, Jackson taking one on the other side of her and throwing a comforting arm over her shoulders. Stiles catches Derek's eye, and Derek nods in understanding, taking a seat on the couch in front of them, facing Lydia.

A pause.

"What do you want to know?" Derek murmurs, keeping his voice as quiet as he can, but loud enough for her to hear him, knowing that she's probably jumpy and frightened after witnessing what the Alpha is capable of.

"Everything," Lydia whispers immediately.

* * *

Scott really should've expected it. Skipping school when there's a parent-teacher conference, he was bound to get caught the second his mom stepped into the school doors. Which is why he didn't get upset when she yelled at him in front of Mr. and Mrs. Argent when he pulled up on his bicycle. Mr. Argent shoots him a pointed look - _why should I let some delinquent date my daughter?_ \- before leading his wife toward their vehicle.

"Where have you been?" Melissa snaps.

"Nowhere, Mom," Scott mumbles, but it's a lie. He's been everywhere. To the old, small beach at the end of one of the forests, to the huge cliff leading to the beach, to the Preserve, to the small canyon in one of the other forests. He's been running, jumping, gliding, getting to know his wolf now that he doesn't have to fear losing control and killing. He could feel it, in the back of his mind, the wolf howling with elation and freedom, and...

And it was amazing.

"'Nowhere', meaning 'not at school'," Melissa snaps once again before rolling her eyes in frustration and pointing to their car, "Get in the car, Scott."

Before he can, though, there's a shriek. Suddenly, everyone is panicking, running to their cars with no care of who they knock over. Scott glances over at the Argents, the noise catching their attention. Scott watches the people in the lot scatter, and he suddenly hears a growl. He snaps his head toward the sound, taking a deep breath for concentration, and then he looks through his eyes of a wolf. He sees a body scuttle across the lot, animal-like, but then he notices Mrs. Argent and he reacts quickly.

"Mrs. Argent!" He calls out, and she snaps her attention to him just as he takes a hold of her and pushes her out of the way of the incoming car. His mom and Mr. Argent quickly make their way over, checking on her, and Scott notices something shine in Mr. Argent's hand.

His attention his caught again when he hears a thunk, and he and Melissa gasp and quickly sprint toward the downed sheriff. Melissa kneels next to him, the nurse in her reacting quickly, ignoring John as he tries to tell her he's fine.

Then, there's a gun shot.

Scott snaps to attention, catching sight of Mr. Argent, gun aimed and hand completely steady, and Scott's curiosity gets the better of him. He follows the crowd, slowly and cautiously making his way over, coming to a stop next to Mr. Argent. Chris glances at him briefly, cuttingly, before turning his attention back to his kill.

A mountain lion.

Just a mountain lion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's wondering, Peter's haircut and shave is just his appearance from the later seasons (like, 3-4, maybe?). Ian Bohen looked good like that, huh? Huh? Right? No? Okay... I'm sorry, I've been working on this chapter since I posted the last one, and I haven't slept 'cuz I kept rewriting the Sterek scene 'cuz I didn't know if it was any good. I'm still unhappy with it frankly, but uh... I'm too exhausted to care right now, so enjoy your brief Sterek! :D


	7. Don't Freak Out, I'm Not Quitting

Hi, guys! I figured since it was taking me such a long ass time to update, I should give you guys a little update into what's happening in my life right now. You know, you're enjoying my story and following it and everything, I figured it's polite to explain an absence and all that.

So, at first, I wasn't updating because I had gotten sick. My throat had been practically killing me, but I just assumed it was something simple, like my sinus or a head cold, or strap, or something. Something manageable. But, what I thought was something simple turned out to be, wait for it, polyps of ALL things, in the back of my throat. 

That was actually pretty scary. But, what killed me was the doctor. He's all "everything's gonna be fine, you may lose your voice, but you'll be just fine." It's like, thanks guy. I love having unreasonable expectations when I'm going under in a surgery that could potentially damage my voice for the rest of my life. Thank you for getting my hopes up.

But, everything turned out fine. He was able to safely remove them. My throat still aches from the incision line and all that, still a little hoarse, but everything is super fine. I'm healing up okay.

I've started drawing for my deviant page that I've had for years but never did anything with, so I'm little distracted, as well. I started working on another story for Danny Phantom and what not.

I have decided that I am going to finish this story up before I post anything else. That way, I can post, maybe a chapter a day, a chapter a week, something along those lines and not keep everyone waiting for a new chapter after this little break. And then I'm going to do the same thing with season 2 - finish the entire story, post a chapter every so often, and then start working on season 3 and so on.

Is this okay with everyone?

And thank you for your patients and your support, and I will see you again as soon as I finish up these chapters. Hopefully that will be sooner rather than later :)


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